"Death and life are in the power of the tongue,"
thus pronounced King Solomon.
"Killing me softly with his song . . ."
thus sang Roberta Flack.
And thus slow downward death is to be my judgment?
But what of life?
If life, also, is in the power of the tongue,
Can your words replenish the earth?
When god and goddess rock their subterranean bed,
Is that when words are born,
In labor and travail?
What new word, then, is born today?