Words Are Overrated

A poem on the futility of language

Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

“I’m so into you.”
“I’m crazy about you.”
“I’m falling for you.”
“I love you.”
“I’m in love with you.”

All misused,
trite,
inadequate.

Words are the language of the mind.
So how does my soul speak?
How do I translate the profound state of existence I now inhabit into markings and sounds?

Perhaps asking the question is a fool’s errand,
an attempt to translate the untranslatable.
This uniquely human quality entraps us.

But is a loss for words really so bad?
Must I demand that my mind understand the conviction of my soul?

I can just be.
Be with you.
Be silent.
And let our souls do the talking.