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