Words are magic, they have a will of their own

and they have their own blood and they have their own bone,

and they live and they love and they carve their names in stone,

and they whisper to us their mighty poems.

For the roots of the tree of words go deep into the earth

drawing the first water to their great thirst

to speak their souls into angel and animal dust

they have blown their love through these spheres of glass.