Words, Yea, Words
These are ye tools to know.
Multitudes, all different, all the same
I am surrounded, immersed into words
yet I know not of what to say
images
colors
pictures
all movement
clear yet blurred by such speed
oh indeed
this is trash
such a bash

I met a man
brother to a movement
of music.
So small are we
that I never, ever mentioned
my admiration
for his sibling.
I hope this made him happy.
Now I write this down
and listen to voices
on the disk of memories.
I should have mentioned my feelings
even if he didn't want to hear me.
And now he can not.
So long memory
of the future
never to be.

Words are all we have.