We reveal something of ourselves in these blogs,
Something of what makes us laugh, cry, sing, be silent.
Something of what we believe, hope, feel, dream.
We hold back truths, we offer lies,
We hold back lies, we offer truths.
Some things we keep secret from others,
Some things we keep secret from ourselves.
So we live, bleed, pray words,
So we cry, sing, say words.
Words are our refuge, our escape, our making sense of the world.
We live in words, words live in us,
Worlds of words
Clawing through us, trying to break free,
To be free, to be read
By others out there,
By the others out there.
Waiting, watching, for what we say next,
Write next, intone next, shriek next.
Madmen on mountaintops,
Shouting through the wily winds,
Shouting to be heard, to be listened to, to be noticed, to be recognized.
A song in no key, in all keys,
Pulsating with rhythm,
Pulsating with sound.
We hope someone will hear. Some do hear. Some will never hear.
And so, shouting, we hear our echoes and believe that others
Are replying, when it is our words overlapping our words.
Sounds drowning out sounds.
And yet some do hear,
Some do listen,
And they reply,
And we listen,
And we reply,
And they listen.
For, in the end, the words,
Are all that matter.