Words the coin that I get paid;
No creature comforts save the day,
Just words, to journey through the brain-
And that I ride, my worthy train.
The standard gold of travel time:
To wander through the star dust mind,
The offspring of exploded suns
And meteors, when life begun.
Remarkable as they are, words are finite in their individual effect. When united by an acutely sensitive mind (hint, hint) the product is equal to far more than the sum of its parts.