The Chaos of the Word
At first the words made my lips bleed.
They took like a blade to my tongue,
acid to my eyes.
I looked upon the page like a predator at prey,
I seeked to devour each letter and understand.
But the words were not meant for me.
Not yet anyways.
My soul passed on tired and worn.
Darkness allowed my escape.
When I looked upon those torturous words again,
they had changed in form and presence.
They bloomed like roses against my worn lips,
Their roots grew around my tired tongue.
Their angelic form grew great and godlike in my eyes.
I understood.
With those words I became another man.
I saw and felt his world.
I understood his way.
With words that held such power, I fell in holy adoration.
I undertsood.
I understand.