My Treasure, My Words.

If it weren’t for you, my words, I would be a passenger drifting through the dark night. I would spin directionless down the slippery slope of life. If it weren’t for your empowering assurance, I would have already given heed to the gravity which pulls at my heart. But I stand in the middle of an empty field, breeze rushing through the tips of my finger, the sun forcing my eyes to close at its might, confident of the solitude and loneliness. Confident of the grace with which each vain attempt brings me closer to some sort of enlightenment. Never have I been sure. Never can I be sure. Never do I want to be sure. The beauty in each word remains by the ambiguity to conquer. To command and  conquer. To rule and subject to. To stay silently in the shadows and watch from the sideline as each well placed word hits the bull’s eye.

I am half a person without my words. They clad me, protect me, empower me. I hide them from the evils of the unforgiving world. Only rarely are they allowed to face the harsh critics. I am responsible for every word I set out into the world, for they can build walls, cross oceans, bring water to deserts of sand and rock. They can pain and heal, have the power to create and destroy. We live in peaceful tranquility my words and I. It’s seldom silent or boring. It’s mostly loving, at times fearful and doubtful, but with each night passing cleared of the hasty despair of the cruel day before. We watch the sunset over hope street and hold onto each other until the next time there is reason to surface.

We nurture this dream, my words and I. The dream that cannot ever become a reality for in the process it would break arms, necks and hearts. It would maim the soul. So with all our efforts, my words and I, we nurture this dream. We stay intertwined, locked in sorrow and regret, but never allow anything to come between the sacred movements of creation. My words are mild mannered and well tamed. They long not for the bright lights of fame, only want to fulfill their destiny of silently repenting, preaching, guiding the unsuspecting reader. Together we weave webs to channel the ideas, to gently nudge each pair of eyes laid on our masterpiece towards all we know to be true. We don’t shout from the rooftop. We don’t wear ornaments that glitter or shine. We don’t call on ambivalence without purpose. We don’t aim to be anything more than what we are and in that we humbly remain.

If it weren’t for you, my words, I would be lost to the world. I would fall after each step, cry after each battle lost. I would hide like a hermit and let all moments pass me by. Without you, my words, I would never be sure. With you, my words, I can never be sure. But you help me and for that I will indefinitely stay indebted to you. Thank you. And then it hits. How would I know if this was it? How would I know for sure? How can I let you take the lead and how could I not let you lead me to wherever we need to get to together? If it wasn’t for you, my words, I would not be who I am today. If it wasn’t for you, my words, I would sit here empty and broken. If it wasn’t for you, my words, I would never know this much love. I could never give this much love.