INK AND WILL..

I am a man of measured tongue,
But blessed with ink, where thoughts are sung.
Who dares deny the strength it yields—
This pen, this page—these silent fields?

For countless tales the ink has bled,
On humble sheets, the stories spread.
They journey far beyond their age,
Immortal, walking page by page.

Words once spoken fade with air,
But written ones are always there.
A fleeting voice may disappear,
But ink holds truth through every year.

No beauty born of ease or haste,
Each line demands both time and taste.
By day I write, by night I mold—
Each stroke a spark, each word a gold.

A free-born soul, I claim the skies,
Though doubt and fear have whispered lies.
They walked beside me, tried to stay—
But faith and trust have shown the way.

And courage—quiet, firm, and true—
Stood tall until the dark withdrew.
So here I stand, beneath the sun:
The war is long, but I shall win.

C. 2025 MikeMos.