Lines to Zen
Smooth ink flows on a crisp sheet,
Gliding, guided by hand, a simple feat.
A mis-step upon a slanted line,
And now it became an abstract sign.
Criss-crossing lines and parallel ones,
Polka dots and tangled fun.
Black and white, or shades of grey,
Fractal counts or even fraying ends.
Away from frazzled worries and thoughts
Soaked in soothing calmness and peace.
The zen in all this calls out to me,
To the mind within, which aims to please.