Words as the source of footprints

You know they’ll be dissension,
they’ll be jealousey and lies.
They’ll be pure hatred in some statements
that will make you want to cry.

The truth you have on offer,
will not be trampled on by fear.
Nor hindered in its progress if,
to its essence you adhere.

For the living proof of value,
comes not in crafted lines.
But in its impact on the reader
and how that transpires over time.

Words are spirals of consciousness,
that lie flat across the page.
They rise up to reach the reader,
their interest to engage.

But words fall like melted snowflakes,
if no contact they can make.
When a soul’s asleep behind the eyes,
in truth they can’t partake.

But when that spiral grabs a knowing,
perhaps hidden deep inside.
It can spur a thought to action,
that the host would rather hide.

These thoughts are then like beacons,
out looking for the sun.
The poor host is left a-wondering
what else he could have done.

To have kept them in the cupboard,
far away from public glare.
In the hopes that he would live his life,
forgetting they were there.

So, the author as he writes,
his words upon the page.
Is like an alchemist at work
when his readers do engage.

Let them go, these words well crafted.
Let them drfit like new blown snow.
Let them be the source for footprints.
Let them go whence they will go.