The letters fill my brain

And overflow, spilling in inky emotions.

They have a voice of their own-

Clacking, scratching, squeaking.

These idyllic letters, unassuming and

Yet so powerful.

One letter, two, ten,

become a direction, a voice, an opinion.

Each letter has a destiny, whether it is marked

With acidity or simply a source

Of amusement. These are my

Letters of present,

Letters of intent.

Letters of class, of rank and stature,

They puff out their chest and inspire emotion.

They are less important to those who

Have gained them with little time or effort

But for those who sweat, who beg,

They are a pinnacle. Jealousy tears through

My chest in a white-hot flash.

Three long years my knees, hips

And heart ached. I endured shin splintering

Agony, strain on my muscles and tendons.

My letter is deserved, it is earned!

When the destiny of letters are realized,

They seem suddenly quiet, humbled,

The envy of those fated letters

suddenly faded. This is my

Letter of ascent,

Letter of intent.

Each letter on its own,

Simple and modest in its own right,

tangle together, twisting, weaving, flowing

Like individual threads within a

Life-saving, life changing rope.

How lovely,

That an arrangement of lowly letters

Should compose triads and tonics,

Majors and minors,

Arpeggios and chromatic.

The scale of impact causes

My heart to swell and increase its tempo.

I become a perfect blend of melody, harmony

and dissonance. These are my

Letters of content,

Letters of intent.