Words.

We hold words precious to us. We find them a peace within our ears. We even allow them to be seen with our eyes. Understood by translation done by the mind. The mind so wondrous a tool for doing so. We keep them close, in diary's and journals. We write them in ink to keep them bold and existent. We write them in order, or out of, to make them interesting and appealing. we use them to name our children, to dictate our definitions. we write them in bulk novels to keep our thoughts occupied. We explore our words with slang and new words not yet discovered. We speak them in different languages. We speak them in different tones, pitches and sounds. we understand them in different ways. We perceive in much more. We seek to create peace with them. We seek to create war with them. Words are our survival. They continue and live on as we discontinue and die. Words are truth and words are lies. Words are what we are, and we are them. Connection to me and to words. Only words can let me see.