An inkwell born of a world unseen, a world untouched;
With the exception of my curious and far-reaching mind.
Refilled only, by a dose of self-prescribed meditation –
Sounds close to medication – might as well be, if not received on a daily;
In other news, before I take the next step in combining the parts I have laid out
I ask myself what my words are worth if I spout them
Without the intent to?
The resulting image of my character terraforming
Can, in essence, be likened to the evolution
In my chosen style of writing;
“One or the other” is perhaps
The most blasphemous phrase I would associate
In describing the tether that exists
Between me and my poetry.
Adjoined, we are, in our conveyance of an inner light
An inner light, flickering in the cove that serves as my heart’s chosen habitat.
Where is this chosen habitat I hear you ask?
Where else besides that inkwell, born of a world unseen;
Of a world untouched.
– O.D. ©2019
Art by: Andead