Pen are different, different in size,
Different hues and different looks,
A writer wants to write something,
Picks up a pen and a virgin page,
Pen is mute and page stares blank,
Page is silent and pen is dormant,
Pen is ignorant about how to write,
Page unaware of what will come forth,
How innocuous and humble both look !
And the ink inside flows clueless !
Can the pen own words on the page ?
Can the ink gloat over writing words ?
Can the writer write without the pen ?
Can the page whisper without the ink ?
The writer reigns and wields the pen,
From his mind, words embrace the ink,
Words become ink, ink kisses the page,
The writer, words, pen, ink, and page,
They all look at each other and ponder.
The writer says He is the creator !
The thinker, thought and all thinking,
Words, pen, ink, and page all seek him,
Words claim divorce from the writer,
Power shines through their eyes,
The pen forgets the writer and words,
The ink looks at her charming mien,
She abhors the pen and clings to page,
The page is proud being shelter of ink,
He rustles aloud and flaunts words.
Wonder how pride blots outs the mind !
Snub the page and words will wander,
Wipe off the ink ,the page loses life,
Take away words, the ink flows dumb,
Throw away the pen, words will cry,
Ignore the words, the writer will fade,
All makes an absolute and I fall for that !
They are bits but bits enlighten the world,
Dust makes mountain, mountain is dust !
Split up the great, the humble comes out !
© Harish Mamgain