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.

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