Behind the Grindstone: Quill and Ink

In the flickering light of the candle
He picks up quill and ink
And spreads the parchment before him
As the candle seems to wink

The room is dark around him
Only the flickering of the light
As his spirit stirs within him
With the urge and need to write

So he searches for the words
As if they were purest gold
Each word plays a part
In the story yet untold

It seems the world stops spinning
And a hold’s been put on time
As the words flow out in rhythm
And the rhythm turns to rhyme

There’s a heartbeat in the silence
As they begin to unfold
Some words are soft and gentle
Others strong and bold

As the Creator who created
The created creates as well
For he’s created in His image
And he feels his heart swell

As the words become a line
And the lines become a verse
Like the vows of a marriage
There for better or for worse

And the verses make a story
A story wanting told
A story of rhyme and rhythm
With words of the finest gold.

At least, that’s the view here from behind the grindstone.