Words in Your Hand

Words we wish to say and phrases we want to express. There is a time and place for everything, but does apply to where one feels the most when it is not the right place, nor time? Banging and yelling at the empty pipes, waiting as if to expect a response to answer the call. Surounded by this veil of fear and patience, even the complex yet beautiful lace does not allow the pipes the go through. The pipes climb and climb, exclalating to what seems to the top and bottom. BANG. The pipe snaps, all the banging and yelling makes the pipe break and crease against the ever enclosing veil. What is this? Were these the words i should have said? Must be, but it is too late, for the veil has been broken already, but yet you sit there watching the bloody words slip right past the broken pipe and seep into the dark earth. The seed of the words surely will grow, but it will only take so long and under the right conditions, like the ever so rare prairie flower. Pure and earthly, just like the words you wanted to say, but now tainted by sin and blood. But the question remains of whether the pipes breaking and the veil retreating, if those bloody words should still be of use; would those bloody words become the flower to give to you when the time comes again. Would those expressions and words that were never given a chance receive redemption; would those redeemed be of actual use for the cause they seek? All they really know is that they remain frozen in the ground, frozen in hell.

Frozen in the moment.