Words Are Beautiful, Damnit!
December 12th, 2009
My veins are buzzing. Logic fuzzing. The rules of plausibility blurring together. The pen meets the paper as the teller to story, all on a night neither dark nor stormy.
Can you feel my heart beating life into these words? See my blood upon the page? Do you hear my shadow’s dance rhythmically tapping away at the insides of your skull?
Well, do you?
If you can’t then you need not feel harder. You need not look harder, nor listen with more rapt attention. If I haven’t caught you in the web so deeply woven in both word and soul then I need to try harder, crack my chest open wider, and shake my head faster until the grey goop between my ears is twitching and all the little neurotransmitters are firing off in all the necessary directions.
Words are more than just letters printed and tried be they digitalized or penned in pretty script. They’re more than just tools of a language meant to be spoken and thunk. They’re more than just- just!
They are the very relief of expression.
A breath outward and a step in the sand. Tasting the sun on your tongue and feeling the green in the grass. Words are all these things and more.
Every song sung must first be written even if the lyrics never reach the paper. Instrumentals are composed in a language of beats, strings, and notes. Every tree that grows must follow the instructions penned so significantly in every single length of genetic code or be at a loss of a composition all together.
As fire burns and stars shine, even the indomitable elements are little to us without language of the universe. The wind blows and we don’t see it but we still find, know, accept, feel, and everything else it. Without words, even the unspoken sort, the wind wouldn’t even be a concept. A concept wouldn’t be a concept!
Even nothing must become nothing through the expression of nothing.
So, let me sit with you now, the pen in my mind and ink boiling away in my veins. Let me bring my story to life within you. Let me tell it and yell it, and shout it from the rooftops. Let me dance it and sing it, and paint it and string it.
For the love of the universe let me express it.
Because I am a writer and that’s what I do. :)
~Writer’s block- you’ve got nothing on this tender heart.~
love that last italicized line :) says it all!
Muchly thanks. :) Been dealing with a bit of the non-writerly blues lately and this piece came out of the brick wall and slapped me in the face. Gotta love it when that happens.