The Scroll Poem by Robert Merrett

A virgin parchment begets a tale,
Unscripted, free beyond the pale.
All will come to this empty space,
To fashion and furnish a dwelling place.

Every twist and turn composes a letter,
Some will be bad and some will be better.
Forming life mottos, a convoluted scroll,
And quiet beneath lies an ethereal soul.

When torment is buried down six feet deep,
And torture is hidden, thy cares not to weep.
Parchment secured, repressed in dread ribbon,
The script now enslaves an essence forbidden.

Through a lifetime of threats the scroll is distained,
In convoluted shape, twisted and pained.
But courage gives solace to the story read,
With elusive meaning relieving the dread.

The words may obscure the space underneath,
Their letters are but nerves, the scroll the sheath.
Know that without it the pain cannot be,
Nor can be joy or serenity.

A seasoned parchment imbued by the tale,
Scripted yet free, beyond the pale.
No longer a virgin, this pure empty space,
Fashioned and furnished, the rich dwelling place.

Robert Alexander Merrett ©2017