Interview with an Exclamation Point

I sat with the mark, sharp and bright, Curved at the tip, a flash of light. "Why the flare?" I asked, "What’s the need, For such a wild, untamed stampede?" With a shudder, it shook, then did confide, "I bring the twist, the rising tide!" "Are you not lonely," I pondered aloud, "In sentences lost in a sea of the crowd?" It chuckled—loudly, with a bold, hearty cheer— "I thrive in the silence, the sound so sincere. I live in the pause, the afterthought’s call, In the space where meaning dares not fall." "But don't you worry," I questioned with care, "That without context, you’d just hang in the air?" It grinned in return, sharp and astute, "I’m the catalyst, the jolt, the pursuit! I’m the spark in the dark, the question unasked, I’m the truth hidden deep in a complex mask!" "But when does the shouting ever stop?" "Never," it said, "I’m the pinnacle, the top. I live in the rush, the speed of a thought, In the chaos of silence, I’m all that is sought." "Then what of the others," I softly inquired, "Those marks, those commas, which never conspired?" "They’re meek, I’m afraid, content with their role, They simply sit back, too cautious to stroll." "Do you think then," I asked with some care, "That without you, meaning would still be there?" With a flourish, it said, "Not as clear— Without me, the message would disappear."