In a Blend of Ink and Spirit

At times I rise above routine’s embrace, In fragile silence softly draped, I dwell, I yearn to breathe my words with purest grace, Wingèd truths escape my walled-off citadel. Inspiration saturates them in a blend of ink and spirit, Letter after letter they meet the light of day, And should your world rest but a fleeting minute, If thou art brave, close not thine eyes nor look away.