Words

Words no longer have wings.

   They area conceived in long held convictions but they fall lifeless onto the page.

   Somewhere between the brilliant idea and the black ink they are exhaused of meaning and become corpses neatly spaced on an empty page.

I do not mourn the death of dogmatic utterance.

   Hollow words satisfy only those whose minds are barricaded by the dark fear of what might be.

No remorse.

I smile at the wonder of ambiguous uncertainty.