These Words

I sometimes wonder why I continue

writing these words,

I've never earned a dime from them,

never had any notoriety or fame

as a result of them,

never had a clue from where they come,

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, 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 called home,

they breathe long after

we have taken our last breath;

these words are forever.

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