If Ink was blood

If Ink was blood

           And words were gentiles 

           Then like Jesus   

            I would die on the cross 

             Spill my blood 

              And words could be redeemed

               Free.

     If Compositions were a battlefield

            And Sentences were my soldiers 

            I would be captured in 

             Alludes, catch the ride 

               As they journey to freedom

      If Sentences were a stage

          And Words were dancers 

           I would Coach them 

            For Championships

             Eloquently they would

              Worship the Creator.

   

          I would train them for death and life

           For meaning and depth 

            Even in their death the

             Words would never die.

           A wordless prison.

              And enjoy the tide.

MitneyMitch