Lifetimes of Ink

I turn my head but all I see

Is blankness glaring back at me

The deafening silence will not cease

Till I give in to the call of a writer’s release

Papers and pens and an unsung tune

And the warmth of the sun and the chill of the moon

Frantic descriptions by each chosen word

The pages are flying like the wings of a bird

A half dozen notebooks scattered about

And the rhythm of poetry weaving throughout

And the toils of my characters in their paper-bound worlds

And fictional palaces rich and impearled

I will follow the endless lifetimes of ink

In a way that’s so real there is no need to think.


~ Helen Cryestira Viorel, February 25th 2019

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