You weave the words of saints and seers
In patterns thought to please
And move emotions through the gears
To give the nod to these.
Yet there exists a part of you
That longs to emphasise
The thickness of the verbal stew,
Regardless of its guise.
And yet you know that that’s the way
That leads to getting lost,
And so you tell yourself to stay
On course at any cost.
It isn’t that it matters, though,
And that’s the heart of what you know.
Photo by Aedrian Salazar on Unsplash
Verse
