Words are prisoners free

I am typing away
pouring my thoughts on white blank page.
Truth in dissaray becons to get out
like a warriorsage.

I have the eyes to see
nothing is what it seems.
Ears to hear
whispers of truth’s will.
Nose to sense
beauty around me.
Hands to touch
the skies, climb the hill.

Maybe I am a charlatan
the magician full
of parlor tricks,
not a wizard,
wielding magic sticks,
spewing wisdom
seldom admire
like a dragon
breathing fire.

Forever it may be
I set them free
no longer are words
prisoners of me.

Commit

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