look round my room, see
my open eyes, see
paper and toiletries -
parchment and perfume -
the worth of a life - bed an
incidental item; desk
chair, impose themselves
on the room knowing
they are the most important
things there amid
perfume smells and 
paper stacks - nothing else
worth looking at:
carpet, rug, calendar - so
what. it is the paperwhite 
that breathes alive
my air, space reduces
to a single hard
surface to lean on. and pens.
a dozen pens for the scribe.
The Book of The Scribe
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