I write words. You know this. Thousands of words by now, acres of words were they planted like seeds, fields of these that bloom, and spring forth flowers of a certain hue. What I hope, what I wonder, if it’s known they are all for you? Give me the gift of language, five hundred dialects and their intricacies, one thing would emerge, one truth above all, they carry your name, they sing your grace.
They Are All Of You | 2.9.21
They Are All Of You | 2.9.21
They Are All Of You | 2.9.21
I write words. You know this. Thousands of words by now, acres of words were they planted like seeds, fields of these that bloom, and spring forth flowers of a certain hue. What I hope, what I wonder, if it’s known they are all for you? Give me the gift of language, five hundred dialects and their intricacies, one thing would emerge, one truth above all, they carry your name, they sing your grace.