I am the lead of a pencil
pressed hard against a blank paper
dark lines that will never taper,
too obstinate for a stencil
though still merely a utensil.
I’m too afraid to become ink
commit to all the thoughts I think
unflinchingly traverse the lines
ignoring all the warning signs.
I am not the eye, but the blink.
Tag Archives: pen
Ode to the Pen
To you who are so confident in the sharp angles
who will not bend by force
but will shape the mind,
the scales by which our history is judged
the catalyst for all intellect divined,
I ask, what shape would be made of us otherwise?
Through you we’ve explored our history
Through you we’ve reached
Out
into the future
and found a place there
Whether
Quiet
Or loud.
Through you we have a voice that
transcends
our isolation.