Monday, March 21, 2011

Like Ink to a Page

Like ink upon the page,
Like water to the wave,
Seemingly essential,
Yet their happiness
Doesn’t solely depend
On the existence of either of them,

The ink could dry
The page could burn

The wave could die
And for the water, so many possibilities of decay,
And yet,
The ink could be pieced together,
The page could contain a message,
The water could rise and create the waves
That for the man at sea
Either save or end his way

Ink is like oil
And the oil spills upon the water
A page is scribbled upon and tossed to sea,
But not before the match fell on print precisely,
Hell to come if flame to meet,
And the wave would see to that.  Emptiness.

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