Words...


You are born when feelings tend to take off wings
You emerge when silence can speak no longer
You are an answer to a stoic's stings
Or poem of a poet's drowsy ponder

You are the base behind every inception..
You are a vector to thoughts in cacophony
You are a picture, weighing thousands in number
A spring to a withering winter's monotony

You are a treasure of events time immemorial
And for the ones awaiting embrace
You are a path from existence to inventions
Or a journey to Juliet's fervor grace

You can be used and misused
You are a power when spoken wisely
You are a hatred when left bruised
A sort of nectar to a listener's dismay

You still shine through years of tarnish
And continue to be the mankind's profess
You are the empath waiting to ink
When the dreary eyes can no longer confess




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