Words, words, and words…

on the pavement, somewhere in England

Ever since I started my silent visit to the literary world where many great & small people have paved the path so that we could tread on, at leisure, I am completely entranced by their magical world of words, where more is always less & you keep imbibing them to quench your insatiable thirst of reading.

Words are very special. With just 26 English alphabets (pardon me for my ignorance about the other languages & dialects around the world) and punctuation marks, innumerable number of permutations and combinations had been made to give functional and meaningful words in different fields, be it astronomy, geology, microbiology or nano technology.

I wonder if any one had ever written an ode on languages and words.

Humans die. But Words remain immortal, even for men may come or men may go. They will live even after the last remains of the human civilization go extinct. Such is the capacity of our mighty word.

Aptly said ‘A pen is mightier than a sword’ and ‘an injury caused by a flame can be healed but not an insult from words’. I write what I think by stitching together words.

Words are not that many to convey all our feelings in any language. Moreover, I don’t want words to take over all my feelings. Feelings are special; they need to be felt and experienced personally by living beings and not by non-living words.

Writings may either become obsolete and lose its trace and existence or be made immortal by continual quoting of them through the vocal cords.

I am not what I am. I am at the mercy of the bright sun light. I see because of it. Speak (&hear) because of the wind, walk because of the earth, live because of the elixir of life: the thirst quenching water, and derive energy from the food obtained from the plants, growing because of the very Sun.

I smile at myself. I couldn’t contain my happiness within me. Word doesn’t come to my rescue to pour out my feelings. Tears start pouring our profusely from my eyes. My tear glands do the job to exhibit my emotive concoctions. My lips, mouth and my facial muscles depict the inner beauty (beauty is skin deep but inner beauty is limitless) and the mirth in the form of silent laughter and smiles. I put no efforts to hold back my smiles. It just happens automatically. Like the flower opening up after the dawn light falls on the very many colored petals of the plants, expressing its insurmountable joy of seeing the sun rays, dancing with the caressing wind; a gentle soft touch, having a magnetic effect of transmittance onto her irresistible neighbours…


Poem by Fernando Pessoa

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