Words written on a page
Serve one purpose,
A story told through trees
Both ancient and pointless.
As words describe the world
It destroys it.
For a poem leaves but a trace
As time erases.
Words spoken into existence
Are immune
To the time warping of paper
Strung askew.
Spoken thought invades the mind.
Whereas paper cards melt in time.
EMILY DICKINSON 