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The poem and the pen

by
John Day

The pen was busy writing a poem
which would explain the ways of the world.
It would be an oracle,
a well of understanding,
a creative and wonderful,
loud and silent, stargazing
and comet-tailed collection of words.
It would amount to
the collective wisdom of all that
had been written before it.
It would answer all questions,
meet all fears, dispose of all problems.
and as this stanza reached its peak,
the pen began to scratch,
running dry, out of ink.

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