Master of Words

strength of the journey in each page,

fingers now curled, writing 'neath the candlelight,

crumpled and torn, time worn age.

Splattered ink, in arthritic motion,

the shaken lettering,

of a lifelong devotion.

Scattered thoughts in rhythmic composition,

as he transcends his visions, his losses, his life,

his now fragile standing position.

No knowledge of prophecy,

just followed, with his blinded eyes,

some of the things others in the world could not see.

The visions of what his eyes once followed,

now writing in the memory,

and the future of thoughts,

of what the world would someday be.

Glaucoma clouded his light of the day,

yet he felt the warmth of the sun embrace,

he could not see the rain gently falling,

but felt the kiss upon his face.

His time neared to follow,

to a place, he could see, all once again so clear,

the clarity he held in his mind and his heart,

he'd follow, without fear.

The master of many words,

strength of the journey in each page,

never forgotten, each leaf now curled,

read and reread, crumpled and torn, time worn age.