In the silent dance of ink and thought,
Worlds arise from empty pages,
Imagination’s fire, never caught,
Ignites the mind, as it engages.

Through twilight hours, the pen does weave,
Tales of love, of loss, of magic,
With every stroke, dreams interleave,
Transforming moments, both grand and tragic.

Upon this canvas, white and bare,
Colors of emotion blend and swirl,
Characters breathe in the open air,
As stories from the heart unfurl.

So let the pen and mind align,
In endless realms of boundless flight,
For in the art of written line,
We find our truth, our deepest light.