Dear words,

your trove is rich
and overflowing 
with yummy sounds
shinning with 
deep meaning.

but dear words, 
my dancing mind
and gypsy heart
wonder lost in 
dimensions unheard by you
and I find your 
treasures 
very weak, like 
broken crutches — 
incapable, insufficient 
in supporting
my wobbly grasp 
of the magical
expressions
within everything, 
but your 
riches are 
also the only 
air the lungs of 
my human 
experience 
can inhale to 
stutter through
all mystery 
speaking to me.

Dearest words, 
you are the 
imperfectly perfect ally
to make seen the
unspoken language 
of consciousness.

-

Thumbnail Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash