Week 17 – Birth #1


It appeared one day

a splotch of ink

on a swatch of paper.

Well-timed and well-metered

a voice that sang

a rhythm that moved.

It carried throughout the world

echoing in the valley

skidding off mountain tops.

It was a cold idea

of frosty attitude

and chilly inception.

It was a hot topic

delivered at fever pitch

a smoky ring around the crust.

So it was at dawn

So it is at dusk

The birth of hope.

The daughter of creativity and ingenuity.