I have trouble playing with my Words

I don’t let them out like I used to

I say to them;

            “Just a moment- hold that thought”

“Wait your turn”

                        “Let me finish this round of Tetris…”

and other things

I surreptitiously tell them to hide, to wait; ‘I’ll find you later, and we’ll conversate then’

But, tired of waiting, they disappear.

Grown cold with disuse, slack from non-flexion, my Words exist only to speak ordinary words.

No longer perceived as important are the glimpses of stratospheric imaginations.

No wonder my books have grown dusty… A forced silence begetting nothing to say

Jealous then, I find myself peering upon others’ words; salient treatises expounding on varying subjects… Moving minds and persuasive arguments of linguistic merit.

I applaud soundlessly and screamingly excited- “Here is one whom has not been silenced!” Vociferously proclaiming their truth in all its unblemished glory.

I then give over to wondering- Why can’t I? Where are my Words to speak so soundly? How have they gone? Why didn’t they wait?!?!

I have never understood, that Words are capricious beings. They come along on their own whims and settle like fairy dust upon the minds of bards. One must be willing to follow their pursuit and dance accordingly- or you shall lose them.

I have lost many a Word that way.

I have ignored their call to dance- and so missed a glimpse of immortality.

I have shushed the voice that speaks- thus leaving the poem behind.

It is only in the questioning and writing of this that I fully understand- Words will not wait.

So now I know, not to turn off the music, shush the whisper, or play the next round…

Instead, I will be, and wait now for them;

and hope that they don’t tell me to wait when they arrive!