Everyday is a sentence

Everyday is a sentence

A jumble

Of unknown words

Unspoken verse

Pulled from a blank page

Empty phrases

Torn from unread books

Scattered in a cyclone of

Repressed emotions

Caught and held in

Fear of abreaction

Leaving a deeply held

Conviction

Empty of meaning

Where is empathy

When it is needed

Nothing is said

Without a formulation

Of purpose

Even in retrospect

Ideas matter

Unless the word

Is lost before a truth

Is established

And in the nurturing

Nothing is found

To repair the damage

Of imprecision

Words seem pointless

Without direction

Unless carefully aimed

They are dispersed

As easily as seed pods

Pregnant with potential

Reliant on a fertile

Imagination

In which to grow

Into meaningful

Appreciation

Worthy of recollection

Show me a

Golden harvest

Before the drought

Of self belief

Dries the plump fruit

From the tree

Strips leaves

From brittle sticks

As every single word

Sown in doubt

Shrivels and dies

On the vine

One line at a time