I met a master of words

could spin you a tale out of spoons and feathers
leaving cotton in the mouth, dry to the tongue
and thirsty for more...

told me

a tree will break concrete if given enough time
and so to
the moulds that hold us locked
in a single crippling thought.

perhaps those words were wrong
and time is not a key to releasing
blistered shackles.

but having purpose can turn
the fallen into limping  to striding to flying

all made worthwhile when not alone.