Less Than Blank

A satisfying sight to see,

The dark ink trail the page with ease, 

Filling the void of empty space,

The writer seeks the words to chase

For just as beauty lies in fresh fall’n snow, 

And the quiet peace it does bestow,

There’s a magic in the tale to be found,

In prints that mar the unmarked ground

With each new stroke, a chapter added,

The page becomes a tad less static,

A story unfurls in that trail of ink,

Though the meaning is often blurred- indistinct