With thine pen in hand and clean slate before me
I set out to pen a world into existence
But where to start where do i begin
Do i sail into the ocean's vast
Bleeding blue into the hearts of those who brave her wrath
Or shall i head to the skies as a bird
Free majestic a symbol of openness and wonder
Shall i trail on and on till point drives the subconscious
Or let the honned edge fall and let word cut thought
The choices are many a legion of stories to tell
A series of pictures to paint for wanting eyes to observe
Feelings to portray in vivid detail and manner
But not mine no not mine at all
The feeling should peel from word and feed the reader
Nourishing their own thought as they lose themselves to my creation
My words hold meaning only to those who dive to their depths