Words

Words.

Are they alive? Are they dead?

Words. Are they real? Are they enough?

Do they do justice? Do they suffice?

Who knows? I don’t. Who can?

But what else is there?

What else is there to carry explanations? What else can carry ideas? What else can share with the other our consciousness? You know, that invisible stuff that floats in pieces of cold flesh.

What else is there?

A touch? A smell? A taste?

How about a tear? How about a smile?

How about a painting? How about a piece of music?

Can they? Can they explain? Can they share? It’s hard to know. I don’t. Who does?

Who can know what to use? And when? What time and what place? Who can be sure?

I don’t think we can. We can’t be sure. What is there at all that we are sure about?

All we have is words. Always there. We can use them anytime.

What they are? What are words? I don’t know. Who can? Who does? We don’t.

But we have them. Words. That’s what we have. That’s what there is

So, I hope they can suffice. I hope words can suffice. I think we all do.

I think we all hope words will suffice.

Suffice with carrying the weight of some sort of intention.