A spark, a though, an idea, a dream,
Full of imagination bursting at the seam.

Yet, placed, encased, a conscience confined,
Caressed, molded, the shape refined.

Each stroke, letter, word so bold,
On crinkling wood so tender to hold.

Sentence by statement, both lies and true,
Growing, showing something strange and new.

Every new page a world its own,
A light smothered, a beacon shown.

Limited, limitless, infinite tethered,
Held and bound between two sheets of leather.

All forming actions, emotions, from joy to strife.
A fleeting image given a breath of life.