I've stood on mountains high
Swung the valley's low
Kissed the starry sky
Spoke of what I know

Swam the oceans deep
Walked the desert sands
Calmed the savage beast
Made up my demands

Seen the city streets
In the city's fog
Heard the jungle beats
Coming of the dawn

Conclusions that are drawn
In the dead of night
Point to all that's wrong
A day in the life

Walked the narrow path
The one less traveled on
Seen what it is I lack
A soul that's tired and worn

Heard a distant call
A whisper on the wind
Of what it is I've done
Of where it is I've been

I stood to gain it all
In the latter days
Then I made the call
To give it all away

With a show of hands
Show us where you've been
Show us what you have
Then show us all again

Stood on mountains high
Swung the valley's low
Kissed the starry sky
Spoke of what I know

I pulled an old photograph
Out of a lonely box
Laying on the side of the road in a ditch
Half submerged with a broken lock

The first photo was of a girl
No more than the age of ten
From that moment forward
Is where the journey began

I found it strange that every shot she was in
She appeared alone
Yes, she stood in every picture by herself
As I watched her grow

I saw one in her teenage years
In a captured moment where she was deep in love
The grin she had from ear to ear
Told the story well enough

Time moves on rather quickly
And so did the photos of her life
I came next to a picture where
She became someones wife

Shortly after there was a photo
Where you could see her husband went off to war
It showed in the sadness of her eyes
That he never did return

Just by the expression on her face
I knew what she was going through
And that the love they both had shared
Is what she had most valued

From that point on there was photo after photo
Where she had never found another
It showed in the deepening lines across her face
Her husband had been her only lover

The last picture that I came to
Was of a woman on her death bed
That is when I closed the box
And never opened it again

Words
are composed of letters
and pronounced with mouths
and tongues of purpose
but in practice

words
cut deep like the sharpest blades
and convey concern like the softest hands
in sequential breaths
from the same sighing lungs.

some words sound like gunshots
and others like birdsongs.

some words feel like sunshine
and others like summer breezes.

these
                                     criss
crossing
                                                  ­       communicative
constructs

drive our wars
and soothe our hearts.
abstract, yet almost tangible
Words.