The Magic of Words

Words. They are the medium by which we relate reality; a currency of intuition and thought. Toward lexiconical pools we cast our poles of cognition, weaving from our bounty elaborate tapestries of self reflection. To the spiritualist, words are aether made form. To the reductionist, words are impulse made vibration. Perhaps the beauty of words lies in the fact that they posses the power to relay intent, thus reassuring guru and scientist alike that we are not alone in the dark and infinite cosmos. Words reassure us that our senses do not lie. Remember a time when you basked in a cerulean pool under the soft light of a full moon? If you can not, make a note to do so; it produces a holistically pleasurable warmness. Remember a time when you exchanged glaces with your love? Such euphoria and understanding can not be properly expressed without metaphor. To sate our dire need of relation we cast our poles out yet again, for senses are meaningless if we can not make sense of them. Every word we use references each of its predecessors and provides context for each of its ancestors in the continuous dance of discourse by which we mediate experience.

Friendship words