Does it matter?

Does it matter?

There are so many words

Floating in abstract

Encircling,

A scrabble

Of covered wagons

Waiting to spell

Westward Ho

Nouns wander listlessly

Sleepy sheep

Chewing grass

As a multitude of clouds

Glide by

Every single one laden

With a tumble

Of letters ready to rain

Down

In precipitation,

If I was a postman

I could sort them

By postcode

Deliver them in person

Is there really

Too much junk mail

Will it all be thrown away

Into the trash

What is the point

Of the exercise

When any sentence passed

Is reduced

To its bare minimum

With only wholesome phrases released

For good behaviour

Positive affirmations

Wait inline

To be accepted

For what they are

Empty promises

Waiting to be filled

With a meaning

Attributed to them

By a committee

Of lexicons

On day release from

Library duty

Abstracted by design

With natural fault lines

Depicting serrated edges

Ready to be broken

In two

By the merest

Whisper of reality

Seek it out

It is hiding in here

Somewhere.