I’m made of pencil and paper
I feel the scratch across the surface
of paper as you pour your passion
so far above of your purpose.
Mister of mysteries in your mind
placate your duties that I find
as I am finding as I learn unwind in
this sacred hand down twine.
I have written and erased quell
I do down the deep hell
as of you I dream deeply and
report the retorts we do tell.