My bedside table light ignites
Via letters' curvature, curls of fire
Perfectly pitch black on pages of white.
Through universal syntax words conspire
To inspire images on paper pages.
I can't recall what pages' faces look like
Only fables my bedside table says
Through the writer's words which incite.
Swept up in a tightly written overture,
Summoned through rhythm and a silent hum.
Via letters' curvature, adventure
Is promised and the writer insists you come.
Reincarnation of a writer's thoughts
In distant souls that echo as they're brought.