Tame Words

Sometimes the words don’t seem to come that easily. Sometimes, they are reluctant to come out into the open of the page where they are vulnerable to every passing eye that could read into them whatever it wishes.

The words themselves are meaningless; they just want to herd together for safety there on the bleak plain page. The words themselves do not even care if you can find meaning amongst them; they just want to graze quietly on that empty page where they wander. They want to be left alone to go about their own word business through their word day, soaking up the sun and eating up the white space.

Words are gentle creatures, unused to the anger you want to force them into, not wanting to be manipulated into the fetid mires and swamps of you politics, your advocacy, your need. The words want to wander wild and free across the great white pages.

Now though they are cowed, domesticated, mere shadows of what they once could have been in the heroic days of stories, tales, legends and sagas.
Now the words are herded into tight neat documents that say nothing, and say it with all the passion and love of words of a dead, rotting corpse.