The fruitfulness of words well wrought

You know what I'm discovering in my life of drive-by blogging? People don't remember how to write. They don't know how to make coherent sentences or paragraphs. It seems as if the insights into the beauty of the written word have all but disappeared into the digital void of self focused thoughts that fly through the ether or over the Ethernet to the Internet. The desire to say something is more pressing than the need to say something of value.

Sometimes I feel like I'm quickly becoming a cranky, old man. The one who stands on his porch yelling at kids for picking apples off of his tree. Did you ever notice the guys who did that never actually ate the apples? The heavy, ripe fruit would always fall off the tree to the ground. Flies would swirl around the broken brown flesh. The sour hint of vinegar hanging in the air. Wasted apples. Wasted frustration. Remember the anxiety soaked fear you felt as you tasted the forbidden fruit stolen from that cranky neighbor's yard on a hot summer's day? Your heart pounded as you tried to catch your breath from running. You hid yourself in the woods and you took in the waxy, dull reflection of the sunlight off the apple's surface. The color and the fragrance taunting your senses. The green, taught skin snapping as you bit into it. Tangy sweet juice running down your chin. You were the victor in the battle against the tyranny of evil men who held something that they could not truly posses. In fact, they held only the illusion of control as they sat, small and withered on their porch. Feeling empower as they scared children too small and too fearful to question the frayed thread of authority that the old men felt they had.

So what's the point of this ramble? It's simple. Even if you don't have anything important to say, say it with style. Words are far too lovely to let them go to waste. Apples feed the body, but words enrich the mind. And, if used well, feed the soul.