Words of Enchantment.

There was a page at the back without a picture,
Just the scrawling of black ink upon parchment,
With an analytical eye I perused each symbol,
Studying the structure of each word of enchantment,
You see, I’m a slave to my wavering penchant,
For the mysteries, that accent our ascendance,
The magnifying lens finds amalgams of intention,
My studious finger feels the artists indentions,
The extent of each symbol is told by the next,
Each moment spent an age is at hand,
For the uncovering of a universe’s secret,
That all started with symbols in the sand.


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