Cry of a scribe

The Cry of a Scribe



There he sat,
Quill frozen between fingers
He stared in defeat at the stacks and stacks of proof
that lay open before him
Then looking up to the roof, he cried
"Infinite Intelligence,
Make me to write the way Maximus
Plays,
Highlight the Combos in my Vocab
That can only be the fixings of a Master-piece,
I vow to tell the truth, even by my lies,
I yearn to tell the untold, teach me the right style for each telling.





But Genius is never enough, so said
The gems in the dirt.
When i wave the wand
Let the words i Spell them bound with confess them.
A breath of Life upon the sleight of my hands, words become wealth.
Oh that you would bless me,
Every leaf a blank cheque and every glory returned back to you anyway,
Amen!"