Could Write A Million Words

Could Write A Million Words

I could fill the night with ink,

spill the sky with thought and fire,

but even then my heart would whisper,

there is still more to say.

Every word leads to another,

like footsteps fading down a hall,

each one chasing what cannot be caught,

each one believing it might.

I could write of love and loss,

of rain that never ends,

of faces I remember too well,

and those I never knew at all.

Still the lines would gather,

growing like wild vines,

stretching toward something unseen,

something that keeps me alive.

I could write a million words,

and still they would not be enough,

for what I carry inside me

has no end, only echoes.