Perfume of love

Against the parchment,
The ink flows endlessly.
Pinning the words,
With the warmth of ink.
From the hands of the creator,
To the hands of the destructor.
In between is the healer.
Sealing all the emotions,
In that motionless parchment
Until the parchment rolls down
To become a scroll.
Preserved and stored as history.
The escape of all in one,
As a mystery.
The parchment as a scroll,
Made the history.
The ink became the perfume,
In this story.
In the valley of loneliness,
Spreading all around.
Only ashes of history remains,
In that soil of burned valley.
Drifting across the seasons,
Blooming all around the world,
With love spreading as a perfume.