I speak with words
Yet the sense
Precipitates in a land
Beyond their world.
I've never chosen
Green for grief,
Gray for gaiety
I have never said,
'I'm tired'
With an expression
Of exhilaration.
Words
Murderers,
Saviours
Of the soil.
It is the non-words
That make words, words.
Still
All of this
Had to be unearthed
In words.
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