The Ideal Word

It's words. Words. Words, period. Words. For a body.

The soul's body is composed of symbols, the most powerful of these are words.

How people read the soul is through the language of words.

The Soul is The Word.

The Ideal Word. That's the Soul. The perfect Word.

One Word to rule them all.

Every word is a division of The Word.
A piece to explain the whole through the observation of a specific experience of it.

But to leave out The Word itself is like leaving the elephant out while talking about its tail.

What the light does to the song of life and how we express it to each other, that's Life.
Our total experience.
How we describe the experience of the match made pair of light and song.

This is easy, for me, writing is about the simplest thing in the world. It's the only time I don't feel, 100% like I could be doing something else.

Accept when I'm sure of love, and what I love is in front of me returning that.

Which is in all estimates, the same thing.

One ought to love their work.
Ought to feel what's given is returned in like manner.

Nature teaches us that all things must balance.
That must especially be true for love.

I say must be because I have yet to feel it.
I do my best to know it before I die.

It's one thing I demand of life, to know a love I recognize as equal to the one I give returned to me.

I get it from writing, but that's lacking, as the words I give out have yet to be returned with equal consideration.

The amount of the generosity for sharing my spirit with others has never been returned.

That goes for all relationships where love is concerned.

I demand Life to show me the courtesy. And I wait.

I don't believe one can be more proactive than that.

I don't believe Life is worth anything more than an equal Love returned.

I want as much as life can offer, so I stand my ground, continue to do what I love aware that Life is absolutely fair, though people so rarely are, and what is steadfast grows the strongest.

So, this sequoia waits while it touches more of the sky for a love that won't die, by refusing to die itself.

S.J. Wynn
+he Ghos+