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Before Pen Met Paper
January 7, 2011
I was faceless.
A blank page,
worth nothing.
A mere sillhouette,
living in a world
of color.
Whose name,
not even I
knew.
I was nothing
greater than a
coarse grain,
lost in the
deserts of time.
The sandstorm
carried me where
it liked; I had
no say.
I was nothing.
Not even a wall,
whose purpose is to stand.
Not even a shadow,
whose purpose is to
shade.
Not even a rock,
whose purpose is to
be.
I wasn't.
I didn't exist.
Until pen
met paper,
and my life
began.
© Michael H., Mildford, CT
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This article has 2 comments.
hancampbell GOLD said...
on Jan. 19 2011 at 6:51 pm
Thank you so much! (:
