In Principio

Words

They are not just 

words. They are

many shapes and art forms,

thoughts and ideas,

emotions and feelings,

colors and people,

all built to be 

alive.

They are 

moving,

exciting,

enticing,

impacting,

inspiring,

powerful,

delicate,

fragile,

and beautiful little

memories.

There were those words

that tumbled right off of

your tongue,

words that deepened every note

you sung.

Words that connected foreign dimensions and galaxies,

words that made you feel less like

an anomaly.

Words that spoke of both victory

and defeat,

words that carried forth desolation

and legacies.

Words that raged against the dying of 

the light,

words that told them you wanted what was right.

Words that burned and scarred

your skin,

words that took away

your every sin.

Words that escaped even the grasp

of time,

words that said I love you, 

you’re mine,

forever and always,

will these words never fail to amaze,

because we live and breathe words

and they are our existence.

All of these words found

carved into trees and

inscribed on collarbones and

shorthanded on parchment and

ingrained in our minds,

even some that spill in the heat of the moment,

some that linger and teeter on your teeth,

and some,

that never make it past your lips,

make magic—

magic better than acrylic on canvas

or notes on a paper,

because their concerto

is entirely in your head.

But these ones,

these special ones

make me.

They construct my DNA,

they course through my veins,

composing the cells in my body.

Because it’s not blood that runs 

this machine of mine.

It is ink.