Flower Blossoms From Ink

Flower Blossoms From Ink

This poem is the continuation of a verse that I wrote last year, titled spilled ink. To my mind, the metaphor for writing really seems like flowers blossoming out from ink.

Flower Blossoms From Ink
Flower buds spilled from ink
And from my heart blossoms the words

Like beauty stirs the day
So does ink upon my sheet

Curving those lines
Shaping those stories
They blossom they blossom
From the cave of my mind
And the vernacular veins of my heart
Creeping their ways to anywhere

And as they go upon there
My mind stops and wonder and think
Of these weeds these seeds I feed

I write till non stop, I write till extasis
Within my roots ink spills
Making shapes of my mind at stake
I am sane I am sane
As these words blossom
Into flowering buds.

-Eiravel-

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