Of Words and Intent

My Lovely Sara,

Words are a gift, or so someone said. But I beg to differ, words are a tool. it is their packaging and intent that makes them a gift. And so I hope this gift of words finds its way to you and fills your heart with emotion. Why not joy, you ask. And to that I reply, I do not know what I am going to fill this canvas with yet. But paint I will.

I think I’ll speak of words. Small packages of thought designed to be delivered in orally or verbally. The definite unit of sense in a language. Meaning is tied to a word, anchored by it. Add a word behind and a word ahead and more meaning is born. Embellish it with punctuation and repeat the process and Hey Presto!! you’re now cooking with gas.

True beauty, however, lies in taking it further. It lies in adding a nuanced element, Rhythm. And I can’t say that word without seeing your pretty smile as you sway to the music. And yes, I do believe the concept to be quite the same. The fraternal twins of Prose and Poetry are born. Each beautiful in her own right. Each a queen of her domain.

But Sweet Sara, One may argue that Prose and Poetry are merely packages by which words, ergo, intent are delivered. They are the vehicles by which an idea, a piece of nuanced thought is transferred from he who beheld it to his audience. That is an argument I have to agree with and disagree with at the same time. Does the dress define she who dons it? No. But it does define the wearer in the eyes of the beholder. Perspective is key in the subjective world of words and that is, I believe, key to this argument. Prose and Poetry are not mere gowns to be thrown over words. They are powerful tools that ever so subtly influence the receipt of the words they bear.

I digress too much. My words run across the page and I seek to confine them to the very ideas that led me to put them here. What is my mission with these words, my love? I do not know. I felt it important, nay, imperative to share these random thoughts with you. My head is full them, both thoughts and words, and I know of no one better to share them with but you.

And though this canvas seems full, I believe the painting is not done. Can it ever be done? I’ll depart now, my sweet, and leave you with these words. They may not light a fire in your soul as they are not designed to. But I hope they raise those lovely eyebrows in curiosity.

I hope to hear your thoughts soon.

Till then,

Yours,

Lawrence

#Poetry #Prose #Words