To each writer who wears a world unique
Bleeding on their velvet sleeves
Infinity within their grasp
Heavens lips spread from present to past
Eyes denying all forms of hubris
Only blocked by human ignorance
To you my dear who’ve made it clear
That every day is a grand exploration
That every syllable is a new gestation
And each sentence a phoenix birth
To burn anew and be reborn with every generation
For you I have nothing
Because in your mind is everything