Four hundred words.
An army equipped for battle.
An arsenal fit for war.
But alas,
That is not what the power of words is for.
Confusion and mayhem are the devil's doing,
The same are the Lord's eschewing.
Yet, for what cause are we using?
As words broil above the bent brow,
An acrid substance is sent down
And spewed from the mouth to destroy.
To destroy.
To destroy.
If words could sprout wings
Would a dove soar from your garden,
Or would a dragon roar from your dark den?
Words could set free, if you hearken;
But would you condemn men, or give pardon?
And if you doubt the depth of this which I write,
Recall the tale of Edmond Dantès' plight.
If you knew words could mold hearts like clay...
What would you say?
Your words can frame a day;
To deplore
Or to enjoy.
To enjoy.
So rare, yet so common.
No other creature on Earth wields words,
While we waste so many so often.
We become hardened,
While our mental fortitude is softened
To the likes of cotton.
Feeding from the bottom,
Surfeiting on forbidden fruit gone rotten.
In a radioactive wasteland
Where toxins blossom.
We harvest poison petals to season food that tastes bland.
With withering, quivering, hand
We feed our neighbor.
We don't sense the flavor,
But still savor.
A cyclical process,
Implementing the secret of conquest:
To desensitize.
Because, all the while, we do not realize
We are blindfolded.
Blindfolded.
Blindfolded.
A spring spouting tainted waters
Sits amidst our town.
We gather around
And guzzle pounds
Till we nearly drown.
You can hear the sound
Of the concoction roiling
In the aching bellies
As people lay sprawled and toiling.
Survive today,
You may.
And thrive nevermore.
Thrive nevermore.
Nevermore.
Begin again,
My friend.
Examine your quiver,
Is your bow for a hero
Or for a killer?
I beseech you,
Enter the palace
And drink of the chalice.
Learn to live in a world
Of goodness and balance.
And forget not,
A word spoken
Set the worlds in motion.
Do you still doubt the power of words?
Whence come your society's norms?
Or know you not how created things gained their forms? ...
If you persist to deny,
If you refuse to be swayed
About the power of words
You will yet believe,
When you've felt its blade.
When you've felt its blade.
Its blade.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
Four hundred words.
An army equipped for battle.
An arsenal fit for war.
But alas,
That is not what the power of words is for.
Confusion and mayhem are the devil's doing,
The same are the Lord's eschewing.
Yet, for what cause are we using?
As words broil above the bent brow,
An acrid substance is sent down
And spewed from the mouth to destroy.
To destroy.
To destroy.
If words could sprout wings
Would a dove soar from your garden,
Or would a dragon roar from your dark den?
Words could set free, if you hearken;
But would you condemn men, or give pardon?
And if you doubt the depth of this which I write,
Recall the tale of Edmond Dantès' plight.
If you knew words could mold hearts like clay...
What would you say?
Your words can frame a day;
To deplore
Or to enjoy.
To enjoy.
So rare, yet so common.
No other creature on Earth wields words,
While we waste so many so often.
We become hardened,
While our mental fortitude is softened
To the likes of cotton.
Feeding from the bottom,
Surfeiting on forbidden fruit gone rotten.
In a radioactive wasteland
Where toxins blossom.
We harvest poison petals to season food that tastes bland.
With withering, quivering, hand
We feed our neighbor.
We don't sense the flavor,
But still savor.
A cyclical process,
Implementing the secret of conquest:
To desensitize.
Because, all the while, we do not realize
We are blindfolded.
Blindfolded.
Blindfolded.
A spring spouting tainted waters
Sits amidst our town.
We gather around
And guzzle pounds
Till we nearly drown.
You can hear the sound
Of the concoction roiling
In the aching bellies
As people lay sprawled and toiling.
Survive today,
You may.
And thrive nevermore.
Thrive nevermore.
Nevermore.
Begin again,
My friend.
Examine your quiver,
Is your bow for a hero
Or for a killer?
I beseech you,
Enter the palace
And drink of the chalice.
Learn to live in a world
Of goodness and balance.
And forget not,
A word spoken
Set the worlds in motion.
Do you still doubt the power of words?
Whence come your society's norms?
Or know you not how created things gained their forms? ...
If you persist to deny,
If you refuse to be swayed
About the power of words
You will yet believe,
When you've felt its blade.
When you've felt its blade.
Its blade.
