The air is full and pulsing.
Words swim;
Words from books and random thoughts-
Expectations and assignments-
Unfinished symphonies and sonnets.
The air is thick with these
And more.
All demanding equal attention
I gaze in awe
Almost believing I can reach out my fingers
Lacing them into the words I can grasp them.
Scoop those words out of the air and hold their beating demands
Shaping them into my own
Their cries for attention: shaped and changed.
Opening my hand I raise up these new shapes
I set them free.

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