All the words in the world cannot save this
Tune your whistles, to be a a sure fire thing
For the beginning and end is but a kiss
bear with me while I write this something...
Hear ye oh noble creatures of the great untold!
Even though these worlds are feeble
As the great unknown consumes and dissolves
We become free from the pain of pluralized people
Let us not only whisper at the faults of babel
but rage and wail at the foundations
of that quintessential fable
tongue in cheek I say this, this linguistic self destruction..
Let forth the love of the great and fearsome mystery
I pour myself into it, for it can hold such passion
You see, there is no end to fakery
So I stay with what cannot be fashioned
Peace, Is priceless no doubt
Such implications and directions can be told
But the anguished and inevitable shout
of the longing love is not to hold
Loose thyself, as I have loosed you in my mind
Let it go, no matter the great and terrible fear of loss
There is a grander and unseen design
Enjoy and breathe and play and let the critics rot!
With all my heart.