Unripened words on the tree of the mind,
When ripe they're split open and eaten.
Some are rotten and thrown away,
Others are juicy and full of meat.

For what are words but the fruit of imaginations?
What are words except the whispers of the wind?
What are words, the forces that drive all emotions?
What are words, the ideas that flip the world upside down?

No man can live on bread alone,
But on the very words of God;
Words have power though they're unseen.
Words can't be explained by science.

In order to grow words,
A mustard seed must be first planted,
And watered and loved so that it grows
Into the solid tree that develops fruit.

It can't be abandoned or it will die.
It oughtn't be left a seed forever;
It needs firm roots and a solid soul for soil.
Then it will grow into the tree
Where birds will nest in its branches.

If it doesn't grow no birds will come,
There'll be no shade under its branches;
Ideas won't blossom and prompts won't roost
Within its nonexistent branches.

These ideas make the world
And change it for ever;
Don't waste the fruit of this seed
Or it will take down other seeds.

Words have the power to burn the trees,
They have the strength to fly the bees,
Whispers untold will fold the world,
And exclamations shake it.

-Anne B. Caitlin