Alone, with Pen
Alone, with Pen
By Tony DeLorger © 2011
In the dark recesses of night, writers scratch away on blank parchments,
their minds tuned to the lilting sounds of empty silence.
Alive in mind thoughts burst forth by persuasion,
dragging intent to the vast flat virgin landscape.
Their hands frantic, their souls ignited, they write,
and until the words release, the frenzy continues unabated.
Finding form and texture, words collide on the page,
vying for connection and the power of nourishment.
Candles bleeding flicker gently in the soft hues of light,
a circle of warmth enclosed in darkness.
Words begin to soar, find flight within the shadows,
and render thoughts like colours to a canvas.
Purpose takes hold and begins to forge ahead,
the chosen words trailing like the path of a comet.
Finding their place each word sings in harmonious tones,
embracing others with the power of alliteration and rhyme.
Coarse suddenly turns silken as the pieces fall together, resounding.
Like streams of tinted air they climb upward,
embellishing clouds and the lightness of truth.
The writer slumps forward, spent, his blood on parchment complete.
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