Ancient civilizations regarded writing as magic
Making the intangible tangible
Priests moving hands and
Where before there was space
Markings appear
Ideas, memories, feelings, dreams
Flowing from the invisible mind
Through forearms and fingers
Materializing along lines into
Visibility...
I view writing as ritual prayer
The thread connecting me to answers
Life is the test
Journals
Connecting dots and
Like a child
Pencil in hand
I begin...
Dot to dot
A tentative shaky line
Dot to dot
A hint of an outline
Dot to dot
Present and future align
Dot to dot
The past does not define
Dot to dot
Another day another page
Dot by dot
Another book another stage
Dot by dot
I chip away at the rubble
Dot by dot
I strip away all the trouble and
Patiently awaiting
Beneath decayed confusion
Maybe centuries old...
A gem
A priceless antique
A relic from another time period
Unearthed...
Finally seeing the light of day
We are right to say
Now,
I realize
How many times...
I passed the test
How many times...
I did my best
How many times...
You did the rest
How many times...
We were truly blessed
How many times...
We are truly blessed
So many times...
So behind this desk I sit
In my PJs... a decent writing outfit
Ready to face this excavation pit
Paper permit in hand now
The examination begins
And...
Life morphs into art
My soul is the chart
Forever preserved in
The museum of a simple journal entry...