Thy Dusty Pen

How long oh sombre sleep,
since sketch, thy tip hath make?
In dust, is sad a weep,
that soon thy pen may wake.

Hiatus from the ink,
did hear a heart in sink.
For lost, did words a voice,
face silence of no choice.

Thy stepped into a dream,
from last oh written piece.
To find a muffled scream,
oppressive in obscene.

With forward move of step,
oh pray it won't be kept.
But dagger swung its swipe
that pen be bound to night.

Now learned the path thy took;
as silence wrapped this book.
But verbal speaks aloud,
as pen in hand writes proud.

A journey one has made,
from last they spoke a truth.
Restraining found the mind;
now writes a pen in line.

See etch of ink now pour,
to talk of scars thy bore.
For never to confine,
by fake, a spoken line.

Alas the time has come,
now warm shall feel the sun.
For now awake and again,
does write thy dusty pen.

Brett Kristian 2023

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