21 August 2012

Word, cord, letter and note,

This is the magic of what we wrote.

Artists together,

Inspiring the weather,

The black night sky,

Place of mystery

Where our poems would fly,

And make our tales history,

These soon heralded a new age,

Our words etched onto every page,

But soon would end,

Our greatness that was us,

And like your life it did send

You away with little fuss,

So here I stay and continue alone,

With little comfort but your literature clone,

To recreate your image in poetry,

Better than photography and painting,

Yet it is not the same,

All soon flocked and demanded this game,

To summon those literary persons whom they had lost,

I sat and stared,

At what cost?

Then answered the crowds the whole damn lot,

I really cannot,

I stood and left you are my one pursuit,

I am an artist and a painter of words in the heads of the imagination,

I will find you but do nothing else.

I am a writer.

NickyXLiterary Clone • Opuss № I