31 May 2012

Ode to Pens

You’re seeing this now,
what I wrote then,
somehow brought together
by this silent instrument.

I flow through its narrow passage to colour the surface,
my tone polishes the inks  poisonous rivulet; 
or so I hope,
for your burning ears on the other side.

and know my words don’t mean a thing
compared to how I carry them,
for its integrity which lifts the soul.