Words on the page matter not at all.
It is the space between the words
where mystery dwells.
I fist my hand around the pen,
my defending weapon of choice,
while I struggle with stories to tell.
I do not explore the words;
but, the spaces between and aside
while I open my self wide.
We may read the words together,
and search the space between words
hand in hand, eye to eye, heart to heart.
No hate can break the bond of words,
shared in the spaces between, apart.
And, then, we can know all there is to know
as we join our empty spaces
deep and dark, side by side.
Reach for the stars if you will.
I prefer to explore one another
between the the words of languages
unknown, unable to be spoken.
None of what is written matters at all.
It is the space between words
where love rises and falls.
Hate cannot find its way in the dark.
But, love can.
Love carries its own light within
the spaces between the words.
Love glows in the dark.
annarino writes 