Expression

I am a lugophile, a lover of words

The words that accompany my darkest hours

The sayings that voice my bliss

The angels that hark the tacenda,

Things not mentioned

This epeolatry, this worship of words,

Lays completely founded

They exist and are to express

My thoughts, my opinions, my emotions, my experiences

Their feel, a baisemain, a kiss on the hand

Their sound, a psithurism, a whispering sound

Their scent, a petrichor, a smell of rain on dry ground

I am a lugophile, a lover of words

They satiate my wanderlust,

My strong, irresistible impulse to travel

They bring me to new heights

And create new sanctions

I travel this world and all others

And in my times of lethologica,

My inability to recall a precise word,

I can turn to my art, the art which I love

My drawings and paintings,

My lines, curves, and dotted dashes

My colors and that there of or lack of

My spectrum, my rainbow, my photograph

To capture those thoughts, opinions, emotions, and experiences

Which words cannot explain

That only vision can express

That brings pictures to life

That explores everywhere and elsewhere

Alongside the words, the words which I love