Letters

Millions of words and countless syllables I own. Today I put them haphazardly into boxes and stacked them on old metal shelves. Soon I'll engineer order out of what I've collected: sort them from a to z, or by chronology, or by topic. But before then it maybe beneficial to free many vowels and consonants and set them off as an army for good. Command them, I would, to fight one letter at time disease, poverty, hatred, ignorance, and anything else that man or nature visits upon the world. But the enemy is perhaps too great for my simple alphabet. Best to take the easy way out: shred and recycle the millions of words and countless syllables that will no longer be mine. But what will the regret be like? Will an anchor of guilt become the great weight that sinks me? Only time and words will tell.