Words

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He sees the words on the page

As black markings on paper.

---

I see them as tiny sparks of life

Dancing for my eyes.

---

Someone wrote these words for him, for all;

Meant them to be resounded aloud

Or whispered softly

To an enthralled audience.

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I want to embrace the words

Of someone else;

To marvel at their splendor,

Hear them ring harmoniously,

Devour their perspective and meaning.

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I want to treasure them,

See them held on a pedestal,

Or in a shining, glorious light.

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But he wants to attack them,

To beat them down

With his anvil of ignorance,

Closing his eyes to their beauty and delicacy

And slaying them mercilessly.

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They no longer have meaning to me.

The words are dead.