Masters of the universe.

My mind feels like a dam to my artistic muse.

Cursed am I, yet know not why.

Would that I could fulfil my quest as

Liberty from these chains I seek.

If  ‘t were right that I should write

And be rid of this foul glamour.

The power of the pen can decide

Man’s fate or fortune.

He that scribes can rule the world

Dare I such responsibility.

A pen’s words can penetrate

Deeper than any knife and

Shed more blood than any can imagine

And still not leave a mark.

On this consideration might not this curse

A blessing be?

Yet while a man, a pen could kill

So may another might it save.

Do I write with ink or blood or wine?

Will these words become

Around my neck, a line?

Of who might I a fortune make?

From life’s chalice do I give or take?

Join with me the fruits of the table

And enjoy its bounties as we are able.

In a stroke of the nib

We can bring much amusement,

We can make the black white,

A cow to sing as ever it might.

In a life ruled by ink

Do I walk fields of blood.

Need we not charms and visions,

Masters we be of our decision.

©Michael Birchmore 2013

2 Replies to “Masters of the universe.

  1. “The power of the pen can decide
    Men’s fate or fortune.
    He that scribes can rule the world.”

    Excellent poem, and from Cromwell’s point of view, truer words never spoken. 🙂

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