The words remain so far away—
Cynically, obviously hidden,
Where they work hard to stay
Concealed, quiet, and alien.

Thoughts dance, often laughing, teasing too much,
Words staying just beyond my touch.
Help!…these emotions are pleading—
Leave me alone while I finish my lunch.

Yes, we search for answers
And prepare for the judgment
Of the world’s reviewers, all skeptics
Waiting to destroy someone’s art.

But words can’t understand
How white spaces behind their letters
Can hold the keys to revealing
The sensations we seek to master.