Mutterings

Speech. An act of communication, perhaps one of the oldest arts. Words from one mouth to two ears, from one mouth to two ears, and repeat.

And yet, I am still mastering this technique.

Instead, the words fall flimsy from my lips and land part way between our distance and your ears.

I have buried the words before they could even begin to be processed into language. They weren’t the right ones anyway.

I attempt to think before I speak but the adjectives and verbs dissolve as I place them on my tongue.

What was my objective? What did I want to say?

 I think of things complexly so I try to simplify them. Place them in the context of ‘black and white’ but the shades of grey are too demanding. They want to have their say.

So I stand here before you, muttering. Formulating words that make no sense at all, I stand here articulating nonsense and resolve in the understanding that no one will ever make sense of these thoughts.

Perhaps they were never meant for words.

D R Forest 2013 ©

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