Grandiloquence, thou art a gilded tongue,
A tapestry of words both rich and bold,
Where simple thoughts are lavishly unsung,
And modest musings into epics rolled.
With flourish grand and phrases ornate,
You dress the mundane in resplendent hue,
Transforming whispers to a thunderous state,
And painting prose in every vibrant view.
Yet oft thy pomp doth hide a hollow core,
A void of substance ‘neath thy gleaming sheen,
For true profundity needs nothing more
Than clarity to make its wisdom seen.
Though grand thy voice may echo through the hall,
’Tis measured words that often say it all.
Bob Lynn / 17-Nov-2024
