my pencil, my pencil

my pencil, my pencil, you are rudimentry!

here! here! show me more of what beauty you ensure.

you are crude, ugly, honest, and true.

finite in nature.

ink and blood suffice the ambitious mind.

so neat, so pure, so percise

infinite, with might.

but oh what beauty we find

from lead cased wood, practiced in freeing the mind.

what good comes to everlast the arc divine

emphasis and epihany stand tallest when

my pencil, my pencil, you fade with time.

abandoned by nuture, your nature is definded.

presenting new tresures for every moment pass by.

equal to it’s creator in the arc of time

here! here! to my pencil, blood ink be damned.

what use is forever in our finite stand.