The Writer's Art

So, obviously I've been busy with school starting up again, but hopefully this simple sonnet will sate your thirsts for new "Words of Graue". It's been so long since my last post, I feel ashamed!! Not much else to say, well, aside from random thoughts... Hopefully I'll have enough time over this semester to actually post more chapters of Blade of Highleaf, that's too much fun to let die!

Enjoy the sonnet!

Inspiration, striking like lightning from cloudy skies,

Sundering fast the mind of the writer where he sits,

Engraving the urge, the need, the desire to defy,

That white paper's stark, clean skin, tainted with ink-y slits,

Taking his weapon, a quill with a point like a spear,

His hand trembling, like leaves caressed by the wind mistress,

Fingers clenched about the plume, itching for ink to smear,

Like a maiden waiting to dance, clutching at her dress,

The writer slashes and strokes, coating the world in words,

Beautifying the void of logical human minds,

A dance, a samba, a duel, a game, a song of birds,

Subtle seductions of the elements and their binds,

Letters, words, phrases, lines, paragraphs, pages, chapter,

Tools of the word smith, always, forever, and after.