Shapelessness of words

Words,
I've envied your formlessness.
The way
you shape your selves:
line by line.

The flapping wings of a fledgling,
the lift against the wind,
the sound of a child's laughter
in hours of despair.

A wisp of air
on an ember dying,
a breeze of life,
an end
a beginning.
Like you,
I too would like to save someone.