The Poet
A poem

A whisper, a breeze, a tickle, pushes me to thunder words with passion and frenzy.
Words come as they please. They too may disappear as they please. Like the changing seasons. Like the tumultuous sea waves.
Unspoken feelings and thoughts, flow with ease, sometimes not. Metamorphose into something glorious, metamorphose into something ghastly.
Not understanding the intent at times, experiment and explore. Wordplay at its best, word butchering at its worst.
I am a conductor of elements. I am a bridge of worlds. I am a vessel of thoughts. I am a conduit of words.
I write to release. I write without qualms. I publish without fear. This is me being a poet.
