Odd that you never know
what someone is thinking.
            Stranger
that no one talks about it.

But, are thoughts words?
No, words are words;
thoughts are thoughts.
Maybe it’s a paradox.

It’s certainly a lot to take for granted,
to put all our faith in words.

And words seem so innocuous,
just waiting for us to arrange them.
But they don’t allow for just any arrangement,
they have rules and they hold tight to things:
            words hold tight to things.

We like it when words make sense;
when words make sense of the world.
But words are never what they say they are:
words are words, other things are other things.
            box
            cat
            dead
            word
            world
But maybe, words like it when we make sense.

Yes, maybe something else is happening.

Maybe words are like the golem of Jewish folklore,
we gave them life to do our bidding, but
now we can’t control them.
Or maybe words are the contents of Pandora’s Box,
or the true “Singularity.”
Maybe words are intelligent.
Maybe they don’t like us talking like this.

Maybe we shouldn’t talk about what we are thinking.

            Ebrah k’dabri?