The writer’s words are like a feral beast.
Words peer out of the tall grasses of your mind, unsure of your intent.
We feel them there, and try to coax them out.
Sometimes they respond, coming into your world, letting you nurture them. If they are comfortable, they might become intrusive, demanding creatures, wanting to be molded, sometimes in a rush of need. They can make you obsessive in your own need to tame them into something glorious.
But there are those words that are wilder than most, hovering just out of reach.
If you push yourself at them, they may bolt, creating a distance that might take some time to overcome.
They can be gentled and encouraged to come to us again, patience being the key. Sometimes the most difficult of beasts become the most brilliant, after they become willing partners.
But the beauty in words is that they always retain some of the wildness, leaving us to guess at their next actions.