Mystified by the process of thought
And how it becomes reality.
It has no shape or form itself,
Only when it's put to pen.
For words are just words,
Like an alphabet taught.
From the human mind
They are brought forth.
The mystery they contain,
Is at the will of those who think.
O let the pyramid be built
To those who build with only ink.
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Lady Vivian
Love ya!
Jane