How easy it is to judge 

from the throne of 

self-righteousness. 

How comforting to

cast off what 

doesn't fit our

moral code.

Perspective is 

colored by our own 

evolution and lingering 

insecurities.  

The soul of a scribe

cannot help but 

share truths

that set spirits

free, no matter 

the cost of their 

own liberty. 
 

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I weep for his skills:

                the perfect crafting

                of the calligraphy

She sighed, "Forge me the seal of our love"

She sighed, "Render yourself to me"

She sighed, "I am your vellum"

I weep for her artistry

He saw the curves, the loops, the cursive strokes:

                flow smoothly from his nib

                harmoniously

  ...

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