My Words

My words know not how to wend,
What message do they want to send.
Some do some and some not at all,
Some fly, some run and some stroll,
and few even find it tough to crawl,
some in amity and some at brawl.
Stirred up in my stirred up nights,
what they don't get to see in lights,
try to catch a glimpse, the guardian knights.
Some of love and care and some of rights,
trying the depths unknown and beating heights,
they sway in mystic sorrows and delights.
How far they go and how grow they tall?
The purpose, I don't know they serve at all.
Whom do they touch, whom do they haul?
At least they find me, when do they call,
and those who mock them and negligent,
it is for them who try to comprehend.