The Master born before the purple pen,

The ink my blood and flowing through my veins.

My mind is Heaven, heart is passion-coursed.

My soul has merged with ancient writings forced

Into my eyes, brought forth from aching pain,

And carried out by will, now and again.


Defeated spirits sigh at sight of words

I’ve written. Fingers are ink-covered, black

Over the brown and red upon the tips.

Imagination races, vivid sips

Of bountiful lakes holding words the others lack;

The freedom flies, created lives occurred.


No other conquers ink like I, nor ever

Will they, no matter how hard they endeavor.


Original Image

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s