Dipping the nib to recreate a dream
God’s plan woven into our sleep
Where do we find our moments of clarity
The ink spreading quietly as if my words weep
Pulling a clean sheet from the ream
Porous surface of the stark linen awaits
No mystic charity in wringing your soul
Close your eyes & embrace your passionate traits
Mornings creak abruptly open
With the mind beginning to spool
We’re out here prayin’ & hopin’
That I won’t always be a damn fool
The promise of a new day can look glib
But I believe this soul can still be smitten
Look to the potential of a fresh nib
I know the best notes are always handwritten
Scratching your soul upon the page
Following the seams beyond the thread
I don’t have the caffeinated gumption
So I’ll have to return to bed instead
Wandering through woven stories in my mind
Nib to paper is the only way I can meditate
Urgency of thought keeps me from sleep
Back to brewing; morning’s way to self-medicate
Lost in the crumbs of the paper fiber
A fresh nib shall never replace the quill
Smearing the answers with lazy strokes
The hazard of firing off missives at will
Captain Q 