Dry Ink

The pen lies still on the dusty desk
Its ink has dried up long ago
No words flow from its silent tip
No stories fill the empty page

The writer’s mind is blank as well
His thoughts have faded with the ink
He stares at the paper with no inspiration
He wonders if he’ll ever write again

But then he sees a ray of light
A spark of hope in his dark night
He remembers why he started writing
He remembers the joy of creating

He picks up the pen and shakes it hard
He dips it in a fresh new jar
He feels the ink run through his veins
He feels the words come alive again

He writes with passion and with grace
He writes with courage and with faith
He writes with love and with gratitude
He writes with everything he has

The pen is alive on the vibrant desk
Its ink is flowing like a river
The words dance on the colorful page
The stories fill the world with wonder

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