Perhaps it is not words that are our vessels and messengers so much as it is we who are in fact the empty vessels through which words and patterned symmetries of endless entropy-as-information flows, it is not our intentions that are written upon this world so much as it is this world that writes itself through us.
This is in this sense the game that plays itself, through us, and we are each and all mere ripples and transient forms or shimmering shadows upon all of this complexity.
Daedelus Kite 