These Words

I sometimes wonder why I continue
writing these words down on paper,
I’ve never earned a dime from them,
never had any notoriety or fame
as a result of them,
never had a clue where they come from
or when they will come,
what they will say or why they say it,
it’s as if they have a life of their own,
an ancient mystery complete with their
own laws and consequences.

There is a price to be paid for these words,
a burning sadness that never quits,
a deep, lonely emptiness,
quietly devouring everything in its path,
bringing you to the edge
of a dark bottomless chasm
where untold millions of words
flow like liquid truth into the oblivion below
without return;

they have almost destroyed me
more than once.

You have to be ready,
they come and go like ghosts,
rising from unimaginable depths,
crystal clear like glass,
bobbing and floating,
creating or destroying,
slowly sinking back into
the night without any advance
warning or consideration;

you have to be ready.

These words wait for no one,
they survive beyond this lump
of flesh we call home,
they breathe long after
we take our last breath;

these words are forever.
.
.