The Story Of The Story

The mighty pen that wrote the fate 

Of several generals

Kings and paupers alike

Lay weeping at the corner

With the blank paper alongside.

The nib reluctant to move

The ink dried in the pot

The ideas are thrown in the trash can

With stale stories to rot.

The heart leaped out

Fiddling with the pen

Shook the writer to the core

To stir his emotions.

Thus emotions rose up

Wiped the teary eyes

One can't hide 

Both pain and pleasure 

However, he tries.

The pen tossed and rolled

Nib too began to glide

The paper shook itself

Vigorously in pride.

The conscience held the pen

But argued and began to fight

How would the poet write 

When the ink had all dried?

The soul stepped in now

Promised to be the ink

Support the poet's emotions

Even till the brink.

It dissolved itself as the ink

The mind secreted imagination

New ideas and innovation

Magic created thus produced

A story written with

Great perfection