How foolish to ever say I am stepping away from poetry.
The nerve of me.
I am a poet, I am an “on fire-poet”
I have things to say, and I must continue writing for the snow that needs plowing.
My soul’s kingdom is overflowing.
I am, releasing this magic.
It needs to be expressed.
It is the opposite of drastic, that I write these poems, that may or may not be everlasting…
My soul, needs to be expressed – even if it does not include all of the best wisdoms.
It needs to be expressed.
It needs to be expressed.
I drink coffee with the emptiest.
I write poems, for the sake of seeing the words align, come together, form.
I think that I have mastered all storms.
My mind can handle any stress.
Yes, it can.
My fingers, creating, and drawing.
My consciousness is sharp, served as a pen.
I am no longer a lion, I’ve adapted and have risen as a panther.
I am a dancer, my soul acts as a lantern, guiding me in the darkest of valleys.
