I would never boast to be a master,

never rise to such a taunt,

never gloat this is a victory, 

or a talent i might flaunt.

This is more serious than a frown,

but lighter than hydrogen,

I've given it my soul,

but that's a different conundrum.

Still one day i'd like to earn

the right to call this art my friend,

to say we are compatriots 

In a nation without end.

It can bridge the gap of culture,

it can move a mountain whole, 

it can start or end a massacre

depending on its goal.

Now i'd like to say it loves me, 

that i've earned its sacred trust,

but it's so injured, so unsure,

that hesitation is a must.

Were i to save the world,

armed with this only force,

I figure i could do it,

and leave not a single corpse.

It's the largest type of mammoth 

and the nimblest type of bird,

my heart, my soul, my comfort,

the Way of the Written Word.