I am a question.
I sit motionless,
anticipating my destiny.
Lost in translation,
I seek my existence.
The parchment waits.
It's reality unknown.
I am the artist.
The sculptor of thought.
The word of reason.
With wisdom and purpose
I paint an answer.
The quill moves
with eloquence and grace.
I am your destiny.
Bound by everything,
and nothing.
Like a wind of anew
I imbed your meaning.
The ink flows,
while deep in reflection.














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