There is length...At times, a leaning!
They sing in rythms.
They can dance in prose.
They speak in statements that may offer blows.
Of stories that they wrote, and
Rumors that kept them afloat.
In present they serve,
Of moments they preserve.
More often than not, they help us deal.
Words have an inherent power to heal.
Words as they say, are so absolute.
Words also are, remote and recluse.
They ascribe fears,
While they invite dears.
They create picturesque illusions.
They make us appear as demons.
They are the mirrors to our soul,
When we let them unite as whole.
Victory or Loss,
Gentle or Gross...
Fabrication of Dreams,
Mystic in some realms.
Carved in the curve of lips.
Along those cheekbone dips
Etched in closed eyes or firm grips.
They tell tales of unrequiited trips.
They can paint the pain. They converse in bliss.
There is still hope when you can feel their crisis.
Their is minimal said & a lot left unspoken.
Its an unending thread of human emotions.
Words pour in as the journey of a life, begins.
We fall short of them when confessing to sins.
We judge them often, with situational lenses.
But words are best in serenity of real senses.
Let them make you, break you, shake you.
Let them fail you, pick you and drag you.
Trust that someday,
They shall set you free.
From fables & folklores ....
They will just let you be!