No words adorned the papers here.  So full, the ink well was.

The quill had waited silently.  The reason?  Well, because.

The poems that this poet writes are few and far between -

and many are the paper sheets with rhyming yet unseen.

The window sash was raised a bit allowing breezes in -

that brought to life my little desk and stirred my thoughts within.

A wisp of air caught paper's edge and seemed to make it say,

"Oh, please don't sit there all alone.  Let's write of God today."

The puff of breeze caught feathered quill and drew some ink up too.

God's spirit seized my timid hand and started something new.

The soft, round curved calligraphy brought energetic drive

to everything inside that room and all had came alive.

His Word brings life to everything - but only if it's read.

for into us, God breathes His truth.  Without Him, all is dead.

God's spirit moves the dust of earth and draws us to His light.

His Word begins to stir us up.  His spirit makes us write.

God gives us paper, quill and ink and all the truth He sends -

for He has given to us all, these good and faithful friends.