In my hand, a vessel of thoughts,
A pen that speaks without a voice,
It dances on paper, leaving behind,
Trails of dreams, hopes, and choice.

With each stroke, a world unfolds,
From realms of fantasy to truths untold,
Whispering secrets in silent prose,
Crafting tales that life bestows.

It bridges time, from past to now,
Etching moments, a sacred vow,
Through ink, it weaves a tapestry,
Of human soul and destiny.

In shadows cast by candlelight,
The pen continues its endless flight,
Carving paths through night and day,
A timeless guide, come what may.