The words are what rise, inevitably,
like morning steam,
from wood, from fields,
true as their source
and the forces that bid them rise.
They can be followed
by one who chooses the necessary silence,
all the way to truth
But when they're argued over,
they move and dissipate
in all the curling currents of the air -
you won't find truth in words alone -
it isn't there.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 23, 2021
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