Whether out of hunger or some other magical design I came across this post that made me pause.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
They were only words.
Every time. Anytime. The words passed over him and danced. Slipped between the crevices made through the ages of his existence. Slipping behind and over and under. Touching him in places he never knew he had.
The whispers. The sounds that became so real. The aromas. Smelling the sweetness and mustiness of life. They were moving too fast to see more than the blurry shadows or the bursts of colors as they swirled in and out of his imagination. The words. Those words. He watched them play and felt their silkiness. Everyday. Sometimes once. Sometimes many.
Even as the words disappeared the echoes continued, slowly fading against the pounding of his heart. Slowly being washed away by the quickness of his breath. They were only words. He kept telling himself that. Trying to work that thought like a tool to untangle the knot that formed in his heart. Trying to form a bucket to catch the dripping perspiration of his soul.
Words. They flow like water at times. Dance like raindrops falling on an old tin roof. Burst through our layers and pierce the toughest coverings of our persona. They are gentle or brutal. Sweet or sour. Words are the thunder to the lighting of our minds.
Words. He thought about their substance. Elusive magical beings. He thought back on his childhood. He was captivated as a child with the properties of magnets. He loved the way that those invisible forces behaved. He laughed with glee as if by magic he could wiggle things by waving a small chunk of matter. Push or pull. Attract or repel. Wondrous little playthings.
But words are not playthings. They are tools of the heart and soul. In their basic form they record our existence. A stamp of approval recognizing our reality. A statement. A direction. A condensed form of our moments. Wondered. Ate. Lurked.
A sigh. A moment of closed eyes and turned off senses. Another sigh and a slow release of his breath. Releasing the feelings that had been whipped up by those words. He could not help but marvel at the way they scattered thoughts and light. The way that they made his spirit soar and revel in the magic that they revealed. How alive he became. He tried to dance along with them. Their rhythm keeping perfect measure to the cadence of his being.
He looked towards their source and smiled. He knew love. He knew life. As he drew closer his heart beat wildly. The purity of those words. The sensational melody. The power reverberated right through him. Shook away the frail fabrics that he had used to clothe his naked aura.
...Even as the words disappeared the echoes continued, slowly fading against the pounding of his heart. Slowly being washed away by the quickness of his breath. They were only words. He kept telling himself that. They were only words...
I surprised myself. And that my friends is a good thing.