Thankful Script

Be it about Plato or Barnabas or Greece,
be it of Egypt or Rome.
The ink that's created on papyrus or paper,
takes me to where I belong.

The stories of glory spilled out before me,
warriors and kingdoms and realms.
ancient yet timeless kings in their finest,
your highness and lady as well.

the poor and the humbled severely out numbered,
still yet the victories won.
good verses evil below lofty steeples,
deserts outlasting the sun.

their cries and there courage I see as I read,
keeping each image so sharp.
the trials and hardships each page I relive,
holding the love in my heart.

Masters of ink and of feather,
tethering years into place.
History handed down to me, who reads now,
thankful for each scroll they made.