Words are all the intoxication I need.

Words are all the intoxication I need.

I can quietly swim in their pools, surf in their waves and simply fall in love with their deep intensity.

I can write them on walls, paper and blogs and draw them into people’s imagations.

Oh what a wonderful world I can build upon their shores,

Painting emotions, giving solace and bringing quiet murmurs of agreement. There is a power to them to disarm volatile intent , stir quarrels and kill doubt.

Words are mine ?

How can I hold them, when they just flow like old rivers, knowing their path and sometimes forging their own.

I may write my name under these alphabets but then it is never really mine , it is always the reader’s to cherish and hold.

In years to come when the dead have slept in quiet slumber too, these words shall stay, not mine sir. Definitely not mine.

Like Ozmandiaz upon the desert floor, I shall not proclaim these words are mine.

They are yours to ponder upon, hold close to your chest, cry upon their shoulders and love them like you have loved love !

I ask myself,

“What use is words if It does not make you feel and Cry??”