The Pen

Say you never saw the light

Writing on a page.

Pen without the ink,

A mere shell.

Would that make you think?

About life, heaven and hell

If we are the pen,

Where is the pigment?

How do you know when

we become a mere fragment?

Who decides whether you are

Gone at the first sputter

Or last until you are dryer than the paper.

Many say the ink is your soul

And belief

Many say the ink is the lord writing with his blood

Many more will say the ink is hope

May I say the pigment is your life?