I keep coming back to my fascination with etymology: why our language is constructed and used in the way it is. Writing poetry about words: I am sorry.
If words are mysteries, they are also historical.
After all, “Enigma” derives its form
From the Greek ainos – that is to say, fable.
That fable became a riddle, over time:
They are all as much puzzles as they are exposition.
The way we build them, that is stranger still.
“Structural integrity” to the anarchist
Is laughable, almost hateful contradiction.
“Besotted,” though, from the drunken sot, so sodden
With red-lipped affection, he lost his senses to it.
I would like to discover counter-historical
Etymologies, though: perhaps assert
That “Adoration” should mean, Making golden;
“Delight,” in us, should mean To make you shine.
In so doing, I could solve each old enigma
And make a delight of it, redefinition.