the words
are beautiful
they are love itself
or human insistence for believing a beautiful lie.
the words
are mirrors
they are blurred with tears
or the surrogate life in which we live.
the words
are wise
they are refugees in our mind
or a way to let past have its ashes.
the words
are center
they are destinies, comprised of conscious, innumerable parts
or of some life that isn't intellectual.
the words
are petals
they are without stems, in water
or dreams, modified down to reality.
Eila Mahima Jaipaul
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poet-words/
