INKWELL OF THE HEART

From the content of the heart;

The written word is penned,

But without an inner sight;

Is hard to comprehend.

 You look amazed at words in ink

And ponder on them, the source;

Was it the mind from whence they came

Or from the heart, that caused remorse.

 Is it truly filled with light,

In the way you've come to see,

Or does the content of your heart

Provide the ink that flows from thee.

 Muddy dark that tends to smear

Or calligraphy with beauty seen;

Words that lift and soothe the soul

Or ones that drag and thus demean.

 From the inkwell of the heart,

The pen will draw from in

And place upon the paper white

Those things that lie within.