The greatest power lays within words,
In tales left untold and stories never heard.
Between pages yellowed and unread we can find,
Souls of those left behind.
Letter by letter thoughts penned down,
Tales, poems, souls, and stories all paper bound.
I keep moving within the pages,
Walking, adrift, happy, and lost.
The journey began as a child,
An escape, an adventure,
My path towards becoming a bibliophile.
I have no regrets, no disappointments,
I learned early,
Words have power.
We have all withstood and crumbled beneath,
Its’ powerful onslaught and fearsome teeth.
Cruel, harsh, painful, and bleak,
Its’ faces are many, for the roots run deep.
Words are funny in that way,
For they believe in equality.
They affect us all, be it strong or weak.
Our masks may be many,
The reasons rare.
We use our words like shields,
Swords, knives, and balms.
To lay our souls bare.
The combinations are many,
Meanings’ infinite.
Sentences vibrant, emotions passionate.
Derived from love the words are deep,
Painting desires upon the soul,
Calling forth sensations untold.
Derived from hatred the words are dark,
Each one cutting deeper than the last.
Clawing its’ way out the pages,
Leaving its’ mark throughout the ages.
We spin tales dark and dreary,
Humour entwined with love, fantasies, and woodland faeries.
Our madness lends hand to magnificent tales,
Such power between mere letters,
That renders our heart pale.
We talk bold,
Of love, kindness, unity, and pride.
Such pretty little words, so justified.
Eyes shine with righteousness,
As our tale takes a life of its own.
Our belief far from our speech,
A mere outreach,
We spin words others want to hear.
Soon the words ring hollow,
The novelty fades, the meaning disappears.
Wars waged, nations besieged,
The power of words,
Mixed with greed.
Souls in love,
Hearts free.
The power of words,
Mixed with need.
Words have power,
To crush the spirit, break the heart,
To tear the mind into bits and parts.
The consequences are untold.
Use them wisely,
Tales of life appear within the pages of books unseen.
They cannot be rewritten, retold,
We may only watch them – helplessly – unfold.
