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Always Reaching
Always reaching for the finest line;
That poetic beginning of something beautiful.
An elegant prose with the curves of a concubine.
Words that twist and envelope one's mind;
Capturing the elegance between syllables.
When the sensual touch is missing
Or the junk in the needle gone,
One can always meander within pulp.
Born from wood and breathes though ink,
The pages will always be there for you
Like the silent friend amongst chaos.
Whether it be genius or madness,
The brilliance that slumbers in-between
Is the synergy that's within us all.
A place where self indulgence can breed.
A wunderkind wrapped in time's binder.
