Are these words that I write for naught?
Have the pages that have remained blank
As though it seems for a century or more
Remained blank for a purpose not yet encaptured
By this fraile soul of mine?
A world fleeing with the winds of time
I stand alone in a powerless demension
Seeking yet another time
When the pages before me will awaken
And the pen that holds me
Will render it's seclusion
And once again be kind
To these pages deteroriated with time.
Awaken dear friend and touch with gentle restraint
Mine most inner thoughts
That they may be transcribed
And with sweet tenderness.. caught
Upon these blank pages that have hungered for your touch.
And if the days be such
That these pages are awakened
By your sweet sweet touch
The words written will not have been for naught.
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