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The Writer And The Pen

There is no ink left in me,
I find neither direction nor peace.

I am left without expression,
where is inspiration?

No rivers of thought flow through me,
I am compelled to remain silent.

Oh writer of truth,
employ me in your noble task.

Speak to me I implore you,
that I may convey your words to all.

Writer are you,
pen am I.

Many are we,
one are you.

I await your presence,
that I may reveal your essence!

 
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