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If words are like paint then I would like to paint people in gold and red and orange and purple,  rather than grey cement that roots people to where they stand and robs them of their mobility.

If words are like seeds then i would like to plant oaks and baobabs and eucalyptus rather than thorny weeds that survive by leaching life off others

If words are like virtues then I would like to ground them in truth and honesty and light rather than pride and greed

If words are like seasons then I would like to live through them all
From the hottest summer day
To the bitterest winter night

I would gather them to me greedily and then scatter them to the wind
Sending them far and wide away from me
But connected to me since i breathed my heart into them

Trusting the winds of time to preserve them as delicate fallen leaves off a tree

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