Words seem to scurry from crowded corners of my mind.
From there, to pen, to paper, tearing their way outside.
Scribbling themselves in harmony, across an empty page.
Showing no discrimination, no matter creed, gender, or age.
Telling tales of wars long past, present tales of love denied.
Emanating with emotions, all humanity is assigned.
Seducing us with eloquence, capturing descriptive bliss.
Tainting us with reality, assuring us happiness.
Abrading us with politics, causing loss of time.
Essays, prose and sonnets, and every word that rhymes.
Words, they have no borders, no bond can bind or chain.
No man can stop their presence, and no law that can constrain.
Yes, we are all partakers, of the written word,
Words that scurry quickly, in a frenzy to be heard – — Clary