Words,
it is the
cacophony
of idle sweeping
sounds
that imprisons
me,
it is the shape
of words as
they coerce the
lips,
harness the
throat
and bend the
mind
that coral my
spirit.
Words
attempt to
bridge that
monumental chasm
that separates
one mind from
the next,
it is at the
forge that
molds and
fashions
words from idle
speculation
that i labor,
it is with a
reckless hammer
that i strike
upon the anvil
that is my mind
as i attempt to
bend the path of
illustrious time
to meet
my fiery
aspirations.
Words
formed in
careless utterance,
to dislodge the shackles
of silence,
constructed with
precision to
woo a prospect
of
romantic vision
or
impress like a
wily magician.
Words
harbingers of
good and ill,
conduits of the
wily emotions that
speak of dreams
and
hint at what is
to come and
what has passed
within the
wake of time’s
incessant motion.
Words
keepers of
thoughts
both gracious
and defiant,
capable of
persuasion
that can placate
or
insight
insidious rebellion,
that can speak
of kindness and
quell strains of
violence that
plague the human
soul.
Words
my hopeless
addiction,
my incessant
bedfellows
whose lyrics can
strain my
composure,
whose sonorous
renditions
can make me
weak,
whose insistence
can
make me
irritable.
Words
welling upwards
from
subterranean
domain of
inscrutable id
to play havoc
to perplex in
wildly chaotic
parabolics
to induce
euphoria or
unspeakable
dread
ultimately
laying waste
beloved yet
fleeting composure.
Words
can be
vindictive,
can be sublime,
roar out of my
throat
or come in a
whimper,
can sustain my
fragile grasp
on the soul of
existence
or be the
witness to
my undoing.
Whether in a
palace
or graveyard
words inhabit
the
vault where
memories
reside in the
heart
of that eternal
ocean
that hapless
citadel of knowledge
and resistance.
Words,
it is the
cacophony
of idle sweeping
sounds
that imprison
me,
it is the shape
of words as
they coerce the
lips,
harness the
throat
and bend the
mind
that coral my
spirit.
