Type-written letters on old yellow pages.
Scratched out lines. Smudged. Rejected.
Ideas, formed and deleted on a whim.
You believe in them, the words.
Or you don't.
And then, the words believe in you.
They can swell and swirl in the shallows,
Pen too slow a spear to snatch them all.
The pen, the desk, and the paper
And the ink and the chair
Wait.
It's a dance of faith.
To believe enough to write.
To believe enough to share.
To believe enough to read.
Fragments of ink become
Vessels of faith
Between us.
About the Creator
Michael J. Wine
I am a fantasy and science fiction writer, and I also like to write the occasional poem or essay. I aim to make my stories as unique and yet meaningful as I can, and I hope you enjoy them.
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