These Words

I sometimes wonder why I continue

writing these words down,

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.

.

.