Sometimes, words flow in my mind, find each other & share a beautiful dance, one that I’d like to share & remember but, when I try to do just that, the words disappear. The music stops & they all find places to hide. I try to force them out of their hidings. I play the music & beg them to repeat what they just did but they refuse.
But finally, at the pressure of my request, they do it. They repeat the dance but it doesn’t look as beautiful as it did first. Not as captivating. Not as smooth. It looks forced & unnatural. It does to me at least.
It’s like the words are afraid of ‘forever’. Afraid of being exposed & looked at so openly by whoever & for whatever duration of time.
Maybe they’re afraid of being imprisoned by the edges of a small piece of paper. A piece of paper that could easily be thrown in a trash can, or worse, fall in the hands of a person who had never fallen in love with words. A person who’d look at them dancing while being deaf to the music they’re dancing to. Or maybe not notice they’re dancing at all.