August 5
The play of language is strange and rare,
We say what we wish, yet words may declare
A meaning hidden, veiled from sight,
Gleaming in layers of subtle light.
But, however, yet, although—
These little words can twist the flow;
We mean to say one thing, but then
End up saying something else again.
They are the sticks with which language plays,
Turning emotions in different ways;
The feelings hidden deep inside
Can suddenly be stripped of their disguise.
“The tea is good, but the leaves are few”—
Listen closely; something is askew.
Was the tea really good or not?
The praise itself carries a hidden thought.
If it was good, why add the flaw?
Why not simply say what you saw?
“Young girl is beautiful, but a little stout”—
Then why call her beautiful, if doubt
Is placed immediately by your side?
The contradiction cannot be denied.
The value of words is turned into none,
Their very meaning comes undone.
Such words give us a subtle sign—
Something is hidden beneath the line.
“I could not achieve what I had planned,
But look at all that she has accomplished grand.”
To hide one’s own failure and pain,
Such words are often used again.
The endless use of “but” and “yet”
May reveal the self-doubt we cannot forget.
They soothe, for a moment, jealousy within,
And give the wounded ego a chance to win.
These words are filled with shades of despair,
Yet awaken curiosity in the air.
It feels as though some secret deep
Has almost surfaced, but remains asleep.
For truthful and clear expression of thought,
We must speak plainly, as language ought.
Suppress our frustrations, let honesty flow,
And choose our words with care as we go.
— Vidya
vidus 
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