Words.

I lose them sometimes, you see.

Sometimes I'm left with them fleeting me.

At times I'm not sure the even exist.

If they are things, or ideas, or concepts without lips.

Because they aren't individual, they are subjective

And because they are read, and not spoken.

Because they are interpreted,and not thought.

The meanings behind them, the sounds between them,

The silence in the pauses.

The punctuation of reality.

The punctuation of non-fiction.

The creation through them, and the relation to my own.

Make them surreal.

Make them unique.

Make them confusing.

Make them perplex.

One million and more of them, one million and more minds.

No one sees them differently, noone sees them the same.

One strand of them causing infinite possible interpretations.

A mixture of them causing ethereal mutation.

Words..... More powerful each time they are seen.

More known, more effective, more destructive, more translucent, more opaque.

A life without words is a powerless one, a mind without thoughts is shallow....- and a story with no words.... Is no story at all.