Writing sets it in stone…

Stone, clay, wood, paper.
No expression,
No accent.
Through the eyes of the reader.
And their biases and substances.
Maybe not in malice.
Sometimes in all evil.

Clauses are,
Loose or tight,
To convenience and lenience;
Read by contract and do service.

What do we know of the reading?
Was it a language like English?
That can’t be read as written.
Was the time in it, volumetric?
Greek time goes in p³ (What’s p in there?).
Is it affected by 60 more unofficial places?

The words you use might be common sense…
Decided by whom?
Do you know the same things I do?
Do you leaven or perhaps,
Use the word rise?
What about warp and weft instead of thread?
Can you play words the same way you turn your socks?

Oh, Dickinson verses.
Not you, not I; only her knew what was in there.
Tough analyzers say they can see through them… Really?
Let’s say by convention that’s yes.
Words can lie so well.

True.
Only a single meaning?
Local, national or universal?
Personal?
True as in truth or true as in skilled?
Skilled in twisting the true?

Finally,
What’s not there can’t always be inferred.
Nuances are not so subtle at all,
Once focalized.
Just change the point of view of the tale and the stone turns lime.