Looking Through Stained Glass

Infinite Pens-sibility
Escher Drawing Hands

My pen’s a stitch of creativity
Against a world of mediocrity
A refuge within the palm of my hand
Whether cursive lines of one leaf’s rustle
Or prose on the weight of madam’s bustle

My pens lodge a dream of nocturnal bliss
Onomatopoeia of a snake’s hiss
All that’s required is my mere command
To push it further than my very best
Even when it looks like a Rorschach test

Equipoise is lost on the muse you see
Control’s illusion gone in a vapor
Pens hold infinite possibility
Upon contact with blank sheets of paper

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© 2005 Raivenne (All rights reserved)

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