Why Write Poetry?
A Poem
Words, breaking me apart, Sometimes like the sun, Sometimes like the darkest clouds.
Words, flowing from my heart, tumbling from my pen, No stranger to the dark.
And words, sitting on a shelf, collecting dust, Until they become inspired and empowered.
“Why write poetry?” I am often asked.
“Where do you find the passion? How do you spill the stars on to a page, and how do you discover a sliver
Of moonlight, hidden in the ink of night?”
To which I reluctantly reply, ‘Do what you love, Love what you do, Find yourself.’
‘You can try, many do, but you cannot find your passion, Until your passion finds you.’
