Graced by pen in hand and mobility of body,
Soul seekers stretch limits into endless skies.
Solid lines mark a writers' striking presense,
But never his mind's bounds to any extent.
Fluid words combined with ink,
Caper adventures across a sea of parchment.
Escape of the vague and prosaic
With lines and lines that reanimate even a whisper.
As you write you wield,
A sword gripped tight.
Words simply drip with poison and delight.
Marking destiny for a short while.
Imagine it and it will be
But fold away prose into a crane,
Never old, never fallow.
Till another day one writes again.
For even the most facile seeming poetry,
Is a man's best friend.