We don’t dream of words or rather—they’re quick as birds that fly from astral trees litter cloudless sky like leaves blown aloft by the breeze variegated eddies teasing memory’s fumbling fingers. Hold on, hold on. Linger on the limb a while. Adhere your witless prophecies to waking ears that when you fly the wistful sky may hold some untold why.
Note on the title:
Saudade is a Portuguese and Galician word (those two share a common ancestor language: Galician–Portuguese) that is better understood as a broad, emotional feeling rather than as a concrete object or narrow definition.
According to Dicionário Houaiss da Língua Portuguesa, it is “A somewhat melancholic feeling of incompleteness. It is related to thinking back on situations of privation due to the absence of someone or something, to move away from a place or thing, or to the absence of a set of particular and desirable experiences and pleasures once lived.”
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Very nice poem Mark. The word Saudade, as you described it, reminds me of a Japanese word I recently learned from Bashō, sabi, which means something like melancholic beauty.
Those last couple lines Mark. Thank you for this. I appreciate you.