Sometimes I write just to clean out my mind and refocus my thoughts (cleaning the dust off my ideas). This is one such write. Image provided by Microsoft Copilot 2025

Words are very peculiar things,
connotations of nuancings,
meaning one thing then another,
allowing room for yet others,
to give purpose in many meccas,
often flailing pure directives,
in producing minds of matters,
when the version list of chatters,
silence some to bring forth,
something better to the course,
instant moments of recognition,
where the verse becomes the gifting,
from the thinking that allows
more to grow than bow out,
stretching thoughts of imagination
in a many good direction,
to greet the writer, given time,
to place their thoughts to intertwine
with the speaker of the thoughts,
who visits them whether or not
they take the time to let them in,
and fill their pages to the brim
with the letters shaping words,
needing nothing to procure
a line of measure where it’s true
the writer, word appear as two,
then become something more
as they journey back and forth
between the moments of contemplation,
lifting up by explanation,
a scene where matters of many lives
are brought out by a willing scribe
to place before those who read,
a lilting sound to retrieve,
where arranged amidst a mingle,
bring in more than a jingle,
in a greeting, in a welcome,
by a measure sent in helping
to still a mind, to quiet the day,
in a blatant word display,
an escape where thinking can
reach past limits to expand
a friendship of the fondest kind,
between the thinker in the mind
and the writer who composes
all it fathoms to bestow
back to where the words have came
in a moment to disclaim
what to think, what could be
the endless possibilities,
on a clean slate which to place
a new idea for their new day
where they have a way to thrive,
above the means by which they strive.

Jade Dane Jaspers