Invisible Legend

Sometimes I am overcome

by so many thoughts

it's hard

to bleed them out

through my fingertips

by means of the ink

from the proverbial

mightier point.

Oh how to make

my words seep

into the day's

choice parchment,

without spilling my ponderings

into a blotchy mess of a pool?

An incomprehensible

blotchy

mess of a pool

soaked up by

thirsty fibers of empty pages.

Is it not enough,

that these blank pages

were once towering kings?

A beautiful army of trees

sacrificed

for mere availability

to senseless scribblings.

Sawed, sliced, compressed,

bleached

clean of their own

valiant history.

I have to believe that

the rings still reside

deeply encrusted

in the microscopic threads

accumulated to fortify

the history

in the fibers

that thread together

to make a piece of paper.

For the ink

we scratch across the smooth surface

bonds our own history

with the hidden messages

of forests past.

Maps

& legends

& secrets

& keys

to humanity

through the perspective

of wooden giants.

We are all

more intertwined

than we choose to acknowledge.

c.marie