Augustine Danita Poet Ode

To Writing

"What shall we say then?" I get on a table with a cup in my hand
As our cups are in the air.
To make a toast.
I scout the room to see.
Mute and Meek.
Strong and Weak.
Able and Bold.
Weary and old.
Different sides but on the same coin.
Different lives but with the same voice.
I have a story as do you.
The ink on my fingers doesn't encompass the whole journey.
But it can give you an idea. 
Day and night.
Soak, ink and then paper.
A cycle I must repeat.
The object of our desires.
My reason for living and believing because I read too. 
My name need not be said before you can get through me.
And why is that?
Paper and Ink.
Two different objects and pieces come together and bring minds so vast and intricate.
To then form a known concept in our world today. 
The ability to tell, to show,
To wander the dusty stacks
Of an old library and call it 
My mind.
Wonderful,
That I get to keep this gift.
Words and books.
Are favorites of mine.
Something I'll think of for the rest of my life. 
Pass down to my kids, and theirs as well.
Because before the world reaches us,
it passes through pages first. 
But who do we need? 
The storytellers, authors, reporters and voices of the people.
Your gift keeps the people alive and active, a need to know more.
A calling many fancy but can't nab.
Tell me? Aren't you excited that you can put all you have on wood. 
Paper if that's clearer.
But my emotions, thoughts and opinions place down,written down and documented for the future me to see and how far I've come. 
So thank you I say,
To the concept that made me believe in my capabilities and who I am without it.
To Writing,
Cheers follow me as we clink our cups and the night ended with peace and merry gratitude.

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