Penned in ink, in stories of life or death,
there is a force that is written of.
It travels over oceans and mountains,
it floods over the deserts, lands of abundance, and alike.
What a great force it must be to instigate wars or affirm treaties.
It is the source, the reason to dedicate a life to another, a person to one path all his life.
To do all this it, must be the fuel to life.
An abundance of it can inflame an inferno,
the lack of it can bank it.
The belief of the poet, all that is written is done out of love.
The love of the author, the story of one lived.
Forever is a story begun without an end. Love is that story.
Author notes
I was just musing over a few thoughts, and this is what came of it.
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