To write…
By: Quill
With gentle fingers, and staining ink,
Dwindling hours…
Marked by the swing of the pendulum,
The tolling of the clock
The melting of the wax
The flickering of the flame.
A patient hand…
Creating life,
From dead ink.
Breathing existence,
Into new worlds.
Giving shape,
To new souls.
An artist’s mind…
Lost in the swell of time,
To the passions of love,
In currents of loss,
And the tragedies of life.
To think,
And create.
To give,
And to take.
… That is to write.
