Only words

Sometimes I watch

My mind

As it makes the words

Plucks them from obscurity

Carefully places them

In a sequence

One after the next

Until a long string is formed to express what I don't yet understand myself

Often I realise the words

Are far from good

But I continue just the same

An unskilled bricklayer

Slapping down another crooked brick

Sensing I should be able to do better

But not knowing how

The words aren't the point

I tell myself

It's the process

I have to believe it

Too

Because if I waited

For only the good words

I might never understand

Any of it