There is a relationship with words I have felt for as long as I can remember. A silent symbiotic existence I have come to rely upon and appreciate. 

In the silence and solitude of life, I hear them. Within the colorful and happy moments, I observe them. Everywhere and in everything I feel them. They call, I answer. They pull and guide, I follow and learn. They prod and encourage, I test and become. 

It isn't easy or always known where the echo of words will take me, but I know when the words come I must find a way to arrange them. This isn't a calling, but a necessity; for me if no one else. Within and because of words I feel a wholeness, an allowance for being truly myself. They offer a level of solitude I require. And a camaraderie I seek.

Maybe at the end of it all, the only thing to be said is I lived through them and perhaps they found life through me. And if so, it is enough; for me if no one else.