As the pen scratches across the paper, the scabbed ink is undone, and the fresh flows out. The hesitant ball puddles ink beneath it as it cannot find the strength to pronounce the thoughts that it was ordered to. What words can be put to thoughts created by a heart that has donated its blood and has been told to suffice with a cold saline solution? The quietly donated words that flow from frigid soul to quivering chest, from quivering chest to trembling lips, and from trembling lips to an eager ear. As they speak the words take form as if each is the stroke of a paint brush across a surface.

The weight of these one sided communications crushes the canvas.

As the pencil glides across the writing surface, the paper accepts the utensil, and the characters are created intertwined with one another. No strokes are wasted on the elegant forms that join together and stand in unison to represent truth. What thoughts can be put to words created by eyes that see the surface and cannot see through into the soul? The stolen words that are pulled from glowing soul to relaxed chest, from relaxed chest to glorious voice, and from glorious voice to an eager ear.  As they speak the words morph into small birds that take flight and leave the surface behind.

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