A Poet's Pen
Through depths of time,
A love sublime.
Stars breathed,
Wheat sheathed.
A poet's rhyme
Tucked within a beating heart,
A stanza rises, seeds impart.
Pour out, it feeds.
A poet's needs.
Voices silenced to the earth,
A life was lived, a soul was birthed.
Their voices echo no where near,
The living in this atmosphere,
And yet they breathe!
On parchments, sheaths,
In poetry books,
Or cozy nooks.
Through writer's pens,
They live again,
Their words impart,
Seeds to a heart.
Through time and space...
The human race,
Though dried ink well,
No one can quell,
The voices of sages
In print through the ages.
What do you have in your hand?
A pen! You cry, I understand.
Take it up, and throw it down
Those words in you, are loosed unbound.
Never silenced, err again.
Pick it up my precious friend.
Let flow the words, and write them down,
The words of life, a poet's crown.
You seek a sign,
Well that is fine.
A staff? A Snake?
It wasn't fake.
What's in your hand?
A scepter grand?
A sling, a stone,
An old jaw bone?
A gift, a pen,
Use it again.
A tool, an art
Straight from your heart.
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