With undipped ink beside blank parchment,
Once upon a time never seemed as far off as now.
A thousand stories run through the temple,
A thousand songs are sung and stars implode.
Fearsome monsters and broken wings become stone,
The mind’s eye runs rabid with fear and excitement.
The ink is still undipped and the parchment remains blank,
The invisible barrier hard to penetrate as the story overwhelms.
Together as one the journey unfolds,
One thousand lives are lived as the game begins.
Spells are cast and wars are waged,
The world could end on the very next page.
Every voice is heard but few will listen.
Stories are told and songs are sung,
But it will always be too late to turn back the clock,
Back to when page one was fresh and new.
Music plays but the symphony dies,
All poetry becomes meaningless as sex begins to sell.
A simple kiss becomes a soul-crushing blow,
And it is such that the writer must decide.