Concentration

Is it concentration of attention
or the concentration  of intention
(or does each inhere in the other)
that marshals the force and delicacy

to make words be vehicles of feelings’
most hidden flavors, rather than dulling
impediments and rudest obstacles
to the mysteries of our enchantment?

for delicate are words’ indelicacies,
their capacity to stab and hurt, bring
such inner spectacles on stage of mind
as reveal hatred in the chains of love

a clumsy touch and all is swift dispersed,
what shows then, vanity that’s unrehearsed