What is it when I find the mere thought of words so comforting
The thoughts themselves turning inside out -
collapsing into observations on language
Is it a distraction?
Is it a measure of control?
Is it an overthought?
Or is it merely a joy in art -
the art of language,
which we take for granted each time we fail to use an adverb,
or apply the wrong punctuation
- the mother of all arts
