Words.

Little islands of meaning that float and twitter over the consciousness. That meander across the meadows of thought, begging for understanding. Little pockets of space-time seeking to encapsulate the intent, thought and conditions of the person who first thought them into life, and connected them together. Travelling across the flotsam of the white noise that we inhabit daily.

Love.

A word with some meaning. Weight. A purpose. An intent, and a hope that moves beyond things that we know, or care to know. I love, and I hope. And I look to the future, and there is brightness in the wings of rhymes and songs and thoughts that make me glad. And I also see the alternative - dark elements of silence, that blot out all the colour in the words that would otherwise inhabit that void. We choose.

Choice.

Another word with weight. Weight upon shoulders. Human responsibility. Shrugging, or carrying. Hoping, or living. Life is full of this weight. And we move along, in the wake of both our choices, and the ones we let others make for us.