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.
Life's First Draft 
If my words could walk, I would want them to be on the tippy toes of a butterfly. They would gently move across flower and leaf and then, in a blink, they would take flight. They would float gently on summer breezes and whisper in the ears of any who believes in beauty and peace. I would also will them to beat their wings about the ears of the unjust and merciless, turning heads to the light.
At the end of the day my words would land back upon limber toes to seek a fortress worthy of the mightiest king but also welcoming to the meek, the destitute and weak.
It may seem strange to you, but if my words could walk, I would have them walk on the tippy toes of a butterfly.
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