The Core of an Epistle

Those inked moments on a torn piece of scratch
Brought back the twilight of hope to the heart
That seemed fading through lens of the past
With no one learning the whole truth behind.

But when those treasures of pen reach the mind,
For just at least in a blink of their glimpse,
Would the fading lit begin to radiate
To let the past learned those inked words on scratch?

And if those hidden letters from the plume
Could unably meet the eyes of the soul,
Would the stained truth by the pen die away
As time gone fast to its new history?

20160826089