'imagination'
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In the still of the night, where the shadows dare,
I grip my pen like a sword, and I declare,
“Wake up, ink, from your silent state,
We’ve got words to spill, no room for fate."
Figment and The Writer
A young writer looked down
With a frown and a sigh than
Suddenly with a push and a pull
The words leaped up as the main character
Beyond the mountains I want to see
Deep inside the sea I want to peak
Something calls me to know more
This yearning inside grows
I want to stand up and look above the skies
Like a bird I want to fly
In the light of the lamp creatures come and go,
Passing from pen to page in its eerie glow.
Far off places full of castles and kings,
Places where the world is happy and sings.
Sings it does of the wonders of old,
You keep coming
I kept running
Love is demanding
But not stranding
No one is commanding
But notwithstanding
Let go handing
And say no to disbanding
We can be expanding
I remain standing
The wind whistles
And the music howls
Through the mountains
And up a breeze
Following the glowing fire
Catching sparks that sputter
