It can be quite lovely to watch fingers slide across the keyboard,
And watch the pen caress the paper leaving marks...
The stream of consciousness o'er flows
Releasing in its path the wonders of the universe...
Sharing the beauty of the inner soul
And leaving behind a masterpiece so delicate,
So perfect and so brilliant.
Unlike the untouched snow of Christmas morning,
The ink spilled on the page as words does stain,
But unlike blasphemy of tainted snow,
The excellent prophecy written by hand
Can stay untouched for centuries,
Shared only with those worthy of excellence
Shared with those that have the purest souls.
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