...There lies a plane
in every page of a blank book
where the colors of void
transcend
into a trance
of a silent dark
Beckoning a truth
detached
from chains of pride
beyond the burden
of the earth
beneath an old tree
inscribed by man
Cascading candle tears
signals a quill of its time to journey
into worlds
with the whispers of the wind
and a torch
that lights a painting
of fire...
Soon the flame will wane
blackness
will be absolute
and the dead knows
by the death of a candle
a poet will be born...