Our Pen

With our pen we speak, Not that our voice is raised to the peak. The ink outpoured by Pengicians Appears like rays of stars in the bans of magicians Who brought the pen to the earth With which the men have grained and breathe The lower ones are great at lens Crawled before but now slate the fence The cap of knowledge from which intellectuals tap Flowing endlessly as it crawls around with gap The papers obey her rule Heeding to every drop if the blue I blaze and graze when I smell the grains it creates My pen my pen Oh! I bow in the midst if flames, I love my pen I love my pen In the midst of men, Oh I raise my pen.