Pen Behind The Gate

As I walked down the hallway

Thoughts in my head began to play

As an image that I’ve seen for the thousandth time

Haunting me, taunting my mind

The brick walls though narrow and straight

Couldn’t contain my thoughts as of late

As a new lust began to develop

These thoughts to my mind began to envelop

As I saw the power of speech’s fate

As I lusted for the pen locked behind the gate

I told my coworkers “How poetic”

As my heart sang out “How pathetic”

As my eyes saw “How iconic”

As my forethought foresaw “How ironic”

“The pen is mightier than the sword,” spoke the king to his subjects, speaking of knowledge known by most

“Mighty is not the pen or the sword. Mighty is the one that knows when to wield either the pen or the sword,” declared the knight, being overly verbose.

The jester saw time for his voice to pipe up, “Whoever declares that the pen is mightier than the sword has not been stabbed by both.”

As I gazed upon this pen, thought I carried two in my pocket

I yearned to own it most of all, like a young girl does for a locket

Even though I’ve owned better, fancier, and pens that are more complex

This pen’s situation of evading me, of my desire it had become the object

Ever since I’ve noticed whenever I would stroll by

I would always look down in its direction, it would always catch my eye

I did not know if it would work, or if it even had ink

All I knew was that it would cross my mind, and about freedom it would make me think

The thoughts of speech and limited freedom came to me in a manner that was very distinct

The thoughts of independence and one’s own interest started to become linked

The ink inside could allow one to create, and unleash the inner mechanisms of one’s mind

The pen when brought to paper or a suitable surface would allow thought to become streamlined

By unending and dumping out the words we carry in our synapses

We’d be allowed to achieve new lows and highs, newer troughs and climaxes

The pen, the pen, it could help compose music for symphonies

Out of reach, behind the gate, I felt sad for its lost of purpose, it garnered my sympathy

The pen, the pen, how could someone forget about something so fundamentally great?

I knew what I must do, I must give this object of my desire a new considerable purpose and fate

The pen, the pen, it could’ve been used to write epics of masterful poetry

Since I could not use it to write, I used a similar one and that one for inspiration respectfully

The pen, the pen could’ve been used for designing and defining new feats of engineering

The gate kept us feet apart, but worlds away; Like the jester it was jeering

The pen, the pen, could’ve been used for a documentary

Not even my superiors have access to the otherside, why is something so simple not elementary?

The pen, the pen, could’ve been used for a biography

If not that, then not for maps? Why not use it for cartography

The pen, the pen, there’s many a great work with which you can do

Your only limitation is the hands you fall into

The pen, the pen, you could be used for signing national peace treaties and decrees

Ending battles with an administered signature, for war is a blight to us. Can’t we all agree?!

The pen, locked behind the gate

The pen, inanimate not in control of its own fate

The pen, like a newborn child or even a zygote, filled with much possibility

The pen, locked away from people, its silence remains more than golden, a pure amenity

The pen, can Write with You in a different Way?

The pen, how about I Write about You today?

Pen, you’ve been on my mind, like letters written to a Pen Pal

Pen, just glimpsing at you as I walk by gives me a small boost of morale

From your lesson as you cannot speak, the wisdom you bestow unto me is something you teach

Let me not be remiss, for your power has yet to peak, your silence resonates with our freedom to speech

People in society have been dropped and forgotten

Their language is not taken with the rest of ours, like freedom that should be inherent and not boughten

Yet, to be silenced by the rest of the world, without connection is one of our greatest fears

It feels like torutre, just like as plastic breaks down for a thousand years

Though our time is more finite than the sand that lines the shores of beaches

Grasping and clawing for escape from societal prison, everyone reaches

And hopes and gestates

As we find our voices as the individual collective pontificates

For we all are responsible for the laws that we hold each other too, not just one magistrate

Keeping our core freedoms free and refined as we keep each other in Check, Mate

As we not just find but reclaim our voice

We take back the power to reclaim our power of choice

As we hold each other up, as they hold us up as well, being a societal hoist

We can all celebrate but never forget the cost of freedom as we begin to rejoice

I’m glad to have the Freedom I’ve been given to this very date

I’m glad to be able to share the thoughts I have with you, that all originated from the “Pen Behind The Gate.”