Mistress of the Pen –

My mistress, she is exacting,

she accepts no excuses,

No whining is allowed,

no knees in the dirt

in supplication

with fingers grasped mightily

looking upwards into her

eyes.

I fear I will fail her.

The thread runs through me,

as a snake crawls through the trees

at night where I cannot

see to kill it.

My mistress will accept

nothing but my pure devotion

shown through my sweat, blood and soul

split open.

I will not fail her.

I am the sun,

I need no warmth,

I need no sustenance from the satellites.

I am brilliant in my own space,

look upon me mistress

See how I shine for you.

I will not burn out.

 

by Philip Wardlow