Words and words and words,
Unfolding like restless birds.
They take flight on paper skies,
Chasing truths, weaving lies.

Whispers born in secret streams,
Carving shapes of untold dreams.
Their echoes linger, soft yet strong,
Building bridges, breaking wrong.

In their cadence, hearts may bend,
Stories bloom, and sorrows mend.
Oh, how they dance, they rise, they fall,
The ink of life, they write us all.

Words, so simple, yet so grand,
The pillars of thought in every land.
They shape the world, they bridge the seas,
The silent whispers, the roaring pleas.

A power vast, both kind and fierce,
Through tender hearts and walls they pierce.
They heal the broken, fan the flame,
Their weight can cradle or cast the blame.

Infinite dreams they hold in store,
A mystery that we adore.
Each word a spark, a doorway wide,
A universe where truths reside.

And so, to words, a tribute sung,
A language old, forever young.
They weave our stories, mark our time,
Immortal ink in life's long rhyme.