Word.

A formulaic turn of phrase we often adore
Too often bespake and too often ignored
Trust to vagaries of chance and fate
Once cast returns not lest it’s too late
To proclaim after fashion most common
Or to linger in mute silence forgotten
Intensity differs yet linguistically the same
The sure ambiguity and baggage disdain
Accumulated hubris immediately acknowledge
Like attempting at once to peer through dense foliage
The meanings interred the decision what spent
Misunderstanding the least of a greater intent
Taken too lightly this most elusive of words
Gravity sparing not; too often heard
Flight of fancy plunges into the deep
A flowing stone bridge of secrets to keep
Dare to speak the words again but not the same
To reveal is advantage lost never to gain
But holding back message nought shall pass
Catalysis remains beyond dreadful last
Wisdom common speaks otherwise
Look not to the words for they do disguise
And shroud with swathes of époques cloth
Smithy red-hot but the maul remains lost
Action they say is the guide of the wise
But for this relevance the act cannot suffice
Hidden in shadow and hailstorm and mist
The loquacious bombast smothers the least
Which of this is, so simple and true
So often the subject of familial misconstrue
To speak what peace and perpetuate what lie
An angel’s shriek to list by and by
Wrought with suffering and with great shame
Do none other words in the lexicon therein
Cause of such turmoil, toil and stress
To cast purple skies and red waves to crest
The connotations and thrice hidden meanings herein
But to cordon the heart is the most gravest sin