Words.

I felt the need to refresh myself and calm from all this study before bed.

A favourite past time has been reading poetry, sounds rather lame but true.

So I opened up a book and read from its pages the perfect words of John Keats:

"The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts". 

-John Keats

..... perhaps my inability to decide on numerous things daily isn't such a terrible fault.

And also, the fact that I must always argue something out both ways until I drive myself into the mindset of a fence sitter may also be acceptable??

I don't think that is quite what he was getting at but poetry is all a matter of perspective, right?

And here comes the random shit from the bottom of my brain... the stuff that really means nothing and are thoughts that pass casually through the heads of most people but somehow dwell in mine for a substantially and highly unnecessary period of time...

Communication is such a gift.

However - why are words never enough?

They can arouse the deepest thoughts,

the most amazing feelings.

They transfer wisdom and teach fact.

But look at them and their ridged shape.

There is such restriction,

"Masculine with a compact frame".

But can one only 'create' or be 'creative' with words to a certain degree?

Or can sentences be constructed delicately and skillfully enough to sound like they have never been written or thought of in word-form before.

I guess this, like poetry is all a matter of perspective.

I've been told that people can't simply 'create' from words.

But there are definitely two sides to that argument.