If my words could walk, I would want them to walk like a spider. Slow and graceful and silent. They would spin a beautiful web with ease; one that captured and reflected sunlight off morning dewdrops like nothing else can. They could build their own parachute and float on the wind, flying without wings, and travel as far as they needed to reach the places they needed to be.
My words would be misunderstood by 100, but they would make their way to 1 who had eyes to see them. That 1 would mean as much as 100, because there is no feeling like the feeling that comes from knowing you aren’t alone. There is no hope like the new realization that if there are 2 then there might be more. I wouldn’t want my words to be universally loved; they would be hope in empty corners, and that’s better.
You probably find it strange, but if my words could walk there’s no doubt I would want them to walk like a spider.