The Meaning There Is In The Intention Sent Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

I've learned to say what I mean.
And then to clear the air,
With frankincense and myrrh.
Keeping the atmosphere golden.
Without hints left to be perceived.
Or believed in the picking of thoughts
Some may rumor I intended to leave.

Any peace I release is there to be understood.
And not subjected to petty interpretations,
By those imbibed with intoxicants.
Already stirred...
And disturbed by blurring echos.
Heard but not from words.

'I heard what was said,
But that wasn't meant!
Even though the words were spoken...
The meaning there is in the intention sent.
Here...
You want a toke? '