A Scribe’s Thoughts – NaPoWriMo 2015 – Day 26

I can but write,
A being resonated
By quill scratching parchment,
Returning symbols left from other times,
Drying in disparate worlds,
Vying with variant thoughts,
Consolidating contrasting words.

Ah, ’tis but a strange propensity
Of immense longing,
This need to fulfill,
This drive beyond my Will,
That puts my hand to Shake,
Drives deeper than I could Speare,
And, through the being,
Take what plays before me
And throw it to the world.

Dogs take the tidbits,
Man the meaning,
God the soul.

Would it were not so.


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