Does it ever scare you, how much you will never read?
Because I am sure that the answers to every question I’ve ever had
Have been written somewhere, sometime.
Maybe it’s in another language, or halfway across the Earth;
Maybe this world is even romantic enough for me to find it washed up in a bottle,
But surely, I am not alone in my thoughts.
How wonderful it is, the way my mind doesn’t know what to do with written words
Except read them;
Read them, with the well-practiced voice in my head.
But there are people out there who can speak their name
And not recognise it on paper.
How strange it must be, to look at the English language and see nothing but whimsical doodles,
Mistake letters of the alphabet for odd lines and squiggles.
What a privilege it is, for me to read as easy as it is to speak,
Slide through sentences like skating across ice.
You have the power to understand scientific journals, great literature,
Yet you squander it by scrolling through social media.
Fashion trends and diet crazes,
Nourishing your body instead of your mind,
Replacing words you’ve learnt with rows of emojis.
How many times have you reflexively written ‘student’ under occupation
Without realising how fortunate you are to have an education?
These nights, I’ve been reading the dictionary,
Wrapping my tongue around new words
And gifting them to my vocabulary.
I nurture my lexicon like a cherished plant,
Crafting sentences to use words I’ve missed seeing;
Writing it down on paper
Just to feel my pen curl around these letters like a long-lost friend.
The ink gives itself in to the paper,
I give myself in to words-
They are an extension of my fingers.
So tell me that one day, I will find something-
A person who words cannot describe, maybe,
Or a question words cannot answer,
When I’ll finally be lost for words-
Let me know that it will be frightening;
Of course it will be, when I’ve built a life around words.
And when I ask for the solution,
Tell me it lies not within the pages,
But written in the stars.