To Write

My fingers tap out a rhythm

Staccato beats or

Tiny clicks

Like pricks of light on a

Dark screen, a blank page

Each beat is a letter

And letters

Are words

And words

Are worlds

Forms like mist spun into thread

Beautiful strings attach and then

Ideas like a web

A quilt

A labyrinth

Block upon

Block upon

Block and then

Cathedrals of thought

From earth to heaven

And down again

My fingers raise a


A galaxy

Of words

And words are heaps

Of letters

And letters are only

The beats

The sounds my fingers make

When they tap out a rhythm of

Tiny clicks on a

Blank page

A dark screen

A world in germination


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