These Words

I sometimes wonder why I continue

writing these words down,

they have never earned me a dime,

never brought any notoriety or fame,

I have never had a clue where they come from,

or when they will come,

what they will say or why they say it,

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 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.

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