In the stillness of the night, the pen begins its dance,
On the canvas of blank pages, where dreams find their chance.
Whispers of thoughts, like stars, start to gleam,
Creating a universe, born from a writer’s dream.

Each stroke of ink, a note in a silent song,
Crafting tales of wonder, where hearts belong.
The paper breathes life, with every written line,
A timeless melody, in prose and rhyme.

Shadows of feelings, cast by the moon’s soft light,
Unveiling emotions, hidden from sight.
The pen, a magician, conjuring realms anew,
A journey of words, where the soul finds its due.

So let your hand flow, let the ink run free,
In the vast sea of writing, where imagination is key.
For in each story told, a piece of us remains,
An eternal echo, in the literary plains.