Words scatter and fly,

like the fine

granules  of dust

on a turbulent

windy day.

 

They travel,

move, settle

and combine

into myriad forms

and audible lines

that can be

as cruel as murder.

 

Words can adhere

thickly, like mud,

and harden

into shapes artistic,

or flow from

mouths laconic,

bitter or wise.

 

Words,

like dust,

are the stuff

and texture of us;

describing, expressing,

identifying and shaping

our beings into

unique wholes

or into sinister categories,

and then blowing away

just as quickly

as they came.

 

6/8/2016