Words

Where will my words take me
A journey to the depths of my soul and back
Will those added clauses teach me what it means to love
Words hanging on the edge
of the line and my mind
If I probe further and further who will I find
Will I enjoy my own company
No commas no need to pause for breath
Life is too short she says

Then I can feel the words slowly drift away
My fingers slow
And words remain upon the tip of my tongue
 Soon receding into the crevices of my young mind
Slowly, slowly they are gone
I am left with words on a page
Emptiness
I force myself to conclude

With some sort of order.

She writes only to try and materialize this overwhelming feeling . The capacity of the heart is such that it wishes to be filled with great things, it yearns for more and more.So thus she strives .She writes only to take the intangible and make it real, even if it is only jumbled words scrawled onto the page.And through the insanity don't we all believe that these strange shapes have substance, have a meaning. That is the power of the heart, to take the once insignificant ,the faded, and renew it with such vigour that our knees buckle under its weight.