PenWalker
I have known for a while now
That ink is a conduit
It stains my thoughts
Providing shadows to the energy
So we can see them
Clearly, vividly, naked
It runs under my skin
Walking through memories
Erasing the pain
Creating movement’s purpose
A call to wakefulness
Lifting from slumber
In the music of india ink
Black and bold strokes
Across many canvasses
Letters and syllables
Staining pillows and curtains
I borrow the words
From the ritual of lives
Soothing colors
Stories that are meant to be told
I try on my parchment
And travel where my pen takes me
© NP 07/27/12
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