Words weave and wander
Through memory and imagination
Crawling out from the hidden spaces
Into perceived reality
And laid bare with pen and paper
The thoughts linger and flow
Along familiar paths until
Branching unexpected
Into glorious dreams
And mystical nightmares
The words dance
To a music I cannot hear
And swim in oceans
I cannot see
And, when I glance back
I am amazed
I am astounded
At what they have created.
The words cannot be molded
Cannot be made to follow
To bend to my will
Any attempts to cut and change them
Leaves scars and blemished
And betrays their truth.
So…
This is the first draft
And
Also
This is the one,
The only,
This is the final draft.