"Etchings of Words," A Poem

The door is adorned with empty lines

and there are no locks, no bolts, no handles.

What lies beyond the door

remains trapped.

The mind hears knocks,

wind coming from behind the door.

The hum of detectives, lovers, birds

pouding on the door.

The sound starts to blend into one harmony —  

loud voices where emotions and notes are expressed.

It bears the marks of streaks

and shrieks for the knight in shining armor

until the writer has no other choice,

but to push the door

that is littered with crumpled pieces of paper

etched with pen marks, pencil marks, and eraser shavings.

Unleash the imagination,

it flows endlessly like the words in language.

Simply like turning the pages of a novel,

silence the voices

by creating more voices.

Without the pounding anymore, there’s music —

lyrics of stories decorate and blur,

the door is painted with words.