Graced by pen in hand and mobility of body,

Soul seekers stretch limits into endless skies.

Solid lines mark a writers' striking presense,

But never his mind's bounds to any extent.

Fluid words combined with ink,

Caper adventures across a sea of parchment.

Escape of the vague and prosaic

With lines and lines that reanimate even a whisper.

As you write you wield,

A sword gripped tight.

Words simply drip with poison and delight.

Marking destiny for a short while.

Imagine it and it will be

But fold away prose into a crane,

Never old, never fallow.

Till another day one writes again.

For even the most facile seeming poetry,

Is a man's best  friend.