With pen in hand and paper blank
He sets out to create
A world yet unknown
Save somewhere in his soul
Passions deep arise from the muse within
To light revealing and the inspection
Of prying eyes and hungry minds
Searching for truths in their own fantasies
Ink is the lifeblood now
Giving rise to phantom experience
And making that which is not real
Into events historic and revered
As a god he creates
A universe all his own
With players and places
And times of future and past
Weaving human emotions
Into a fabric so rare
To fashion a garment
Of joy and despair
He manipulates creatures
And controls the events
Of his universe imagined
Yet when it’s all done
His creation is nothing more
Than a dream, a fantasy,
An enigma of mind over matter
Which, in the finality of it all
Means little more than ink on a pad
Like so much rain on desolate sand
There for a moment
Then absorbed into oblivion
Perhaps "..Quiet Storm" will help rekindle old flames buried and long forgotten or express the love so deeply locked inside of your soul longing to be released.
Regardless of where you may be found in love this beautiful masterpiece can be
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
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