The swell of spilled ink
Falls from ether brink
And none of us knows its full reach
Its thought-river rolls
From the whisper of souls
To thrill and to comfort and teach
We grapple inside
At the tug of its tide
Craving, rebelling, we fight
Keen intercourse
Of thought finding voice
Trembling and trusting, we write
Over Time’s ramparts
And ocean of years
Ink-rivers surge to a place
Of heart touching heart
Though oceans apart
Eons and ink interlace
© Janet Martin
Happy New Year!
(Lord willing this little creek will keep trickling:)
J~
Your font is more than a trickle and at times it tickles the heart. May your wellspring continue for I drink here a lot.
ReplyDeleteHappy new year Janet.
Good morning TUG and Happy New Year to you as well! Your words warm my heart on an extremely cold day and I thank-you for the encouragement.
ReplyDeleteGod bless.