By Tony DeLorger © 2013
The quill embodies my thoughts,
from mind to expression,
the harmonious laying of ink to paper,
searching for the purity of meaning,
formed by the eloquence of language,
always epitomising the drive to be heard,
be understood and respected.
The quill tells no lies,
and enacts the catharsis of a soul in need,
a heart on a sleeve,
and a seeker of the truth at any cost,
always perpetuating the provocation of thought,
the entrapment of a mind to consider.
The quill evokes the stirring of a soul,
the questioning of paradigms,
the ruthless decimation of the mundane
and trite beliefs of lazy minds,
drawing out the doubts and angst,
of hearts set adrift by the inequities of experience,
the pain of harsh lessons and even the solace of forgiveness.
The quill is acid, languid, provocative and wistful,
layering the gentle strokes of ego,
with the brash grit of cold hard truth,
toying with a mind, pushing buttons,
to demand response, swift reaction,
to all that is believed, understood,
to be then questioned and the seeds of doubt sewn.
The quill defines no truth in itself,
rather, it concludes it through the posing of questions,
the path led to places unknown,
and roads less trodden,
and in discovery,
enlivening a mind to expand the parameters
of what was a limited possibility.
The quill is my weapon, and she roars,
can be unforgiving and then enlightening,
words woven all within a mind, a heart and a soul,
to reach for truth wherever it may be,
and in that, be spared the illusions
of a mundane life,
a life without conscious experience.
I am a writer; I wouldn't and couldn't be anything else.
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