The Weight of Words

Words are not ink.

They are intention.

They are resurrection.

They are the pulse beneath silence—

alive before they are spoken,

eternal once they are.

I do not write them lightly.

I dig for them.

Beneath memory,

beneath wounds,

beneath the breath I forgot to take

when life got too loud.

Each word I choose

has cut me open

or sewn me back together.

Sometimes both.

Because words

can lift a heart,

or break it.

They can end a war

or start one.

They can name you,

save you,

ruin you,

remake you.

And still, I chase them.

Shape them.

Offer them to strangers

like a gift I’ll never get back.

Because words

are what I have.

And somehow,

they are everything.

Words are the quiet architects of our world—each one a thread, binding thought to action, breath to meaning, life to legacy. - Gia Laurent