The mind
In the nib
Of the pen
Is the light
Switched on,
The wire
In electrical flood,
The synapse of seeing
Open eyed
And transposing
Ideas
Directly
In ink

As if
Their true form
Were black marks
Made upon the page

And not images
Wrapped in similes
And metaphors
Translating the link.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015