My pen has dipped the ink of Hell’s despair

And by my praise, the joys of Heaven blessed;

Penned notes of gentle words to connote care—

Or diatribes to scourge and damn the cursed.

At times the verse flows gently as a stream

At times strikes fierce with thunderbolts of night;

Yet even through the tempest’s raging scene

Its purpose shines—to cast a guiding light.

Through composition I may touch the heart

And by fair argument enlighten minds;

For tone can either heal or rend apart,

And words enthrall, by thought with thought aligned.

Though narratives in monotone be writ

The inked design lies crafted in the wit.