Words Poem by Ilari Rahja

To speak, is to think - Exist.
We presume.
Throw around.
These exquisite realizations - Sounds.

Sounds, zounds! !
Composed all around.
To secure our thought.
A world made of noise.

Meaningless afterthought.
Justification of self.
To drown the other.
I wonder...

What other?
What self?
What cost?
Price, is it to be purchased?

Can one truly exist, if left alone?

Our meaning thus.
To build-up proof.
Memory - of us.
Present the evidence, on worth.

Where none otherwise.
Might be found.
Searching for Me.
Meaning and life.

Within the Valley.
Of the Shadow of Death.
Hoping to find.
Capture it.

Before It reaches out.
Buries me.
Into darkness.
Velvet mist.

So I wonder, my purpose.

Seek, if a soul could be found.
Its value discovered.
Bit-by-bit.
A letter, at a time - I plead.

Seek, for existence meek.
Some discovered, some lost.
Was to all, mischievously bound.
Thought to myself...

A purgatory, to endure.
Justify that heavenly joy.
Has it been earned or lost?
Without knowing - Without care.

Was my preaching.
Pathos, for naught?
Alas! ! !
What is life?

But bandying empty words.
In an hourglass...