Words drip out of the pen

A realization begins to take shape

Onward

With the pace of a shark that has picked up the scent of blood in the water

With the face of a broken clock attempting to measure the time passing

Onward

Through the letters, pain and pleasure

Burdens lifted

Inner peace is gifted

Ink addicted

Especially whilst conflicted

Onward

A journey towards the center

Or a journey towards what lies outside

A trek on top of clouds ‘till Heaven

Or a tunnel built with zero degree tilt, straight down towards where Hell must lie

Onward

The core scorches with the heat of an impassioned love

Space is empty, vast, and freezing cold

But until I find the answers to my questions

The ink will flow and the pen I’ll hold