WORDED WORLD

Spiraling sentences out of control
dig me deeper, trapped in a hole
an imprisoned soul.
A floor of dust covers the base
encircling tall walls, suffocate my face
what is this place?
With no known clues, leaving no trace 
is there a way out of this space?
A pencil case
lies high above
well out of reach
tied to a dove.
A desolate room
an empty tomb
within this womb
words seal thy doom.
Then in one foul swoop the dove dived
and in my lap the answer arrived
as I opened it up there was a pen
a piece of paper, signed
A Friend...
“To Whom It May Concern”, I wrote
returning my gratitude upon this note
and not before long
up I float.
A tiny spec of hope I soon see
my vision, vast in vocabulary
as I’m set free, verbally.
I give thanks to the dove 
that chose to save me.

Carey Milton ©