The ink keeps on flowing from the tip of my pen
Creating sometimes a lovely world that has never been
Showing how possible it is tho' often held at bay
By the enemies of the creatures fashioned from clay
Such a splendid creation infinitely spacious, wide, deep and long
With such beauty that it seems in it none could go wrong
Yet replete with hurt and evil influences, day and night
With such temptations it seems that none in it could go right
A testing and a proving ground
Where paradise is lost but can again be found
By the dreamers who continue to pursue their dreams
And dare to dare even when all else seems
To be lined up in opposition to the beauty flowing from inside
When the pressures all around mount up and deride
The ink keeps flowing from the tip of my pen
Fashioning the beauty filled possibilities that 'til now have not been

the things da ink can scribe
tyte drop

There's a possiblity for beauty whenever a poet picks up a pen...very nicely posed.