First I spill the ink in deference
Then and only then
Do I dip my pen into the deep well of blackness of the past, present and future
Memories flow
From gifted tales long ago
That old, wise scribes once sowed
Those words I now reap
Floating aloft like
Paper boats travelling through time
Built by river reeds and aged hands
They navigate violet channels in my mind
Welcoming I guide them through intrepid passages
These vessels laden with golden messages
Of scribes of yore
Heads on high, birthing fecund lore
For they sailed the mind of all there is
Ever was and ever will be
Inked every story to be told
Then I remember another thing
And another long forgotten
Sunken chests waiting to breathe life again
They wrote
I write
© 2019 IC Blackman