On sheets alabaster

My steps became the ends of pens

My mind became the writer

Leaving its black lines as footprints

My feet honestly followed its master

Implanting the meaning to the empty plane

Meaning grows, leaving its fruits called letters or characters, and

Letters evolve as words;

And words form phrases, sentences, paragraphs, and pages

And instances become moments;

Moments become memories, and memories gather

To compose a life – to complete a chapter

When pen makes its first line

Thoughts start to sprint

On this white, blank track