Words upon a page
Scratched from a pen a thousand thousand times
Escaping the lips, breathed out countless breathes.
Effortlessly rolling off the tongue
Fingers make the motions offhand
But what of their meaning?
Can there be meaning in such a simple and intrinsic gesture?
Of course, for does not breathing have meaning?
In and out
The rhythm of life, no thought occurs for it, but it is one of the most important acts.
And such is the nature of those words, written and said as though breathing, almost without thought...
...but special beyond thought, beyond conscious effort. The words have gone beyond an effort of will and into a world of
instinct.
No more do I say 'I love you' as a man who thinks of it.
I say 'I love you' because every bit of my being needs to say it, as surely as I need to breathe.
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