Liquid River

In an Earth year, it would take me weeks to create a goal. Accomplish it.
Twist your ears towards me, and into the wind; I have something to say.
But it won't be the clear bell you expect it to be.
I speak with purpose, though I also speak with method.
Take my words with you
and twist them, wring them out,
and make a beautiful liquid river of my words.
Use the potion to splash onto canvas, and to paint your face with. I will not laugh.
I want you to listen to the words, and not the person.
If I were someone else, if I were anything else,
the words would be less or more.
Because really, it is up to the author to create a sense of self and purpose
for those words.
But what happens if the author lacks importance
or dedication to her work?
What would she be then?
A phony.