SCRIBBLES

The ink turns blue when it fades

Transforming into thin streaks of lines and curves

That tangled into strips of gold and silvers, all shades

Of gray, but in the end, astoundingly superb.

Words wrangle into space

Forming lovely poems we trace

Somewhere in the depth of the world

Comes a natural power from the subtle sword.

Troubling to the eyes of others the things we create

In our hearts, is a promise of a golden future, we are sated

Te one that is naked, visible to the eyes cannot be seen

In a mind’s wide open, a small prize it would have been.

Line by line, page by page, the  time moves

Our lives written on a sheet of brand new day

Idle words make stories on their accord that soothes

The tiny membrane between the ears, works as it may.

Here are the words that bugged me all throughout the week. I was waiting for my thesis mates at the school library. Meaningless words kept spinning inside my brain,spilling through my mouth. That's when I decided to create something from the nothing. So this, "Scribbles" has been made. Hope someone could relate to me. HAHAHAHA. I even took photos from my old phone. :) Sorry for the poor quality, not just of my pictures, but my penmanship too!