Always With Words To Sell
a valley of death we seek to explore
venturing beyond nature’s green door;
unsolicited campaigns for sand and dry tongues
of final conversations
and words left unsaid.
we go still, to lands humanly ill
because we come from wastelands
rumored to kill.
yet survive we did,
without a million words,
for lexicon was fruitless,
a branch without its greens,
when we came to explore.
Discover we did,
and we found words to sell
and live we did,
in valleys meant to kill.
So venture we shall
unafraid of carcasses and hunters
and chagrin and avarice,
for, resilient blood and brilliant brains
reign our hearts.
so sovereign, we won’t fight for our own,
for, if we did, death would do us part
and we do not deserve to die
survival is our birthright.
word stock we raised,
to be fed and groomed,
word stock we grew
to be left unused
so into the valley of death we go
with empty pockets, not so much as a quill,
searching for sand and dry tongues
so we can look into each other’s eyes
and in moments of last,
understand what words were meant to tell