To etch feelings 

Into semi permanence in some vain attempt at capturing them?

What purpose do words serve?

Can you place them in an order

That will evoke the feeling

That spawned them?

No, and what does writing do to our stories?

First the scribes which was only slightly less abrasive 

Than the printing press which stopped their natural evolution dead in their tracks.

Our stories are our wisdom. They cannot be separated. 

All of the knowledge we seek to pass on is there.

So what are these stories now?
Revealing wisdoms too late to heed

But without any applicable to the specific way

The world has changed

Since writing

Ruined it.