I am intoxicated by words

Addicted to the subtleties of language

Forever trying to understand how it's possible

That every book, and

poem, and

thought, and

dream, that I have ever known

Can be described by simple shapes on a page


How do you describe the description?

The melancholy loneliness of absent

The unbridled passion of exuberant

Felicity drips with sugar and a gentle breeze

While rancid oozes betrayal and a bitter aftertaste


And yet sometimes, the meaning will not be what I adore

But the sound

The song of a word lesser used

As it fills the air with its music

Or the familiar hum of a dear old friend

And the comfort that speaking it brings


All of our lives we are singing our words

From our very first cry to our last breath

And every song we will ever run into 

Will be different than any before it


Perhaps this is why I find that I crave words

To hear how people have made language their own

I listen to the voices of those who surround me

And find that, slowly

I stop hearing their words

And I start to hear their souls

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