Do words mean more with more repetition,
Or are they dulled from existence by silenced ears eager for something more than letters strung in sequence –
Actions may speak louder than words,
But without words intentions increase their capacity to be lost,
And so even besides my actions I make sure that my words remain frequent.
Aside from definitions, what is the weight of words?
Held in which measure and by which cost?
Who dictates their placement besides one another to become the better of each other?
Like love, between I and you.
Will it mean more the more we say it,
Or do hearts suffer the same pain as our ears with the more we speak and less we display it?
See, we take words to make sense of the questions asked within ourselves and unto others,
And the same words that lead us lost into a blind confusion as we choke to find the answers.
With words we hold the capacity to make light of our emotions or see that someone suffers,
Or make fictions to escape our imprisonment in pain –
“A beautiful face, below the moon dances.”
With words we may distract from the point of our path,
Quick to make pictures click in the minds on to which we speak,
Maybe our words become too much as each day we confess our love and failures they become week…
And before long we’ve heard it all,
And all that we’ve heard means nothing at all.
Solum 