The Knowing Pen


My timorous instrument…

Don’t feel you’ve lost that something,
Have run out of words
Where construct and dream
Can’t locate buried treasure.

Failing to move my pen to paper,
You’ve left me forever whispering
“Where are you little friend?
Don’t be afraid to come out.
We’ll overcome the demons”.

Take my pen.
Its tender touch will lead you back
Gently,
Understandingly,
Along the darkened canyon,
Down the mountain side
To the shore,
Where wind borne sand
Undulates gently through sandy stones
Amidst dune-high grass
Still joyfully dancing
To the tympani clash of anxious waters.

We’ll rest.
Watch the tide roll out.
Patiently knowing
Faithful ocean whispers
Have carried our crystalline bottle
Once again to a waiting shore.

The message within
Awaits your voice.
Little poem.

Just…

Trust the pen.