The INKWELL

He is The Inkwell.

I Am simply— His words.

I Am The Words;

sodden and esoteric.

A solemn ship —masts and sails—

Cast against still waters.

I Am— The shadow that fades

within the Depths of

His Eyes.

Humanity.

But he—

He is the understanding,

The Meaning.

He is—The Lull

of Ancient waters—

As they Fall and Rise within the sea,

Crashing against its shores.

He is—A Soul held tightly.

Buried beneath an impoverished earth.

Concealed within Sacred ground.

I Am—The Silence.

The Pause—beneath voice,

Hidden within whispers.

But He—

He is the Quintessence.

He who binds all falsehood.

He who holds all symbols.

He is— The Umbraculum.

The Papal Cross.

The Nazar.

He is— The Philosopher's Stone.

The Kombolio.

The Shield Knot.

The Rudraksha Bead.

He is— The Maze,

The Labyrinth within one's journey.

He is— The Spiral,

The Origin of all things.

HE— IS.