The sandpaper scrapes and the scrub too
They leave surfaces polished
Not my words though
When you learn to peel them off,
You will sniff the aroma first
Then you will see the soft edges
Then the dense and pure light
My gentle heart emits
Peel off further and you will feel the tenderness of the bud
The forming embryo
The first splash of dew
The warm glow of the pink dawn
The first blush of a new love growing inside
The first racing heartbeat at his sight
The first sketch of a new artist born
The first crisp orange leaf of an autumnal tree
That time when the full moon is shining in glory

Tell me, then, would you still focus on the din of my words or me?