What inspires our fertile minds to write?
What creates our visions; consumes our dreams?
Why do verses emerge victorious in spite
of our muffled, often frustrated screams?
Divinely granted are we a gift at birth;
the miracle of words beckoning to be born?
In exchange for us a heartfelt mirth;
exuberance set free, yet at times we are torn.
Such a whirlwind of words alive in our hearts;
we attempt to harness the passion and fury.
Often left in our path a plethora of starts;
only a single creation we deem as worthy.
Is our song a tear in a turbulent wind
destined to be mingled with torrential rain;
unable to stand apart for the art of its kind,
scorned & tempest-tossed, unnoticed again?
Unimportant the reason, regardless the rhyme,
whatever obscure force controls our pen.
Our soulful seedlings will reap, given time,
a succulent harvest of verse from within.
Always admire the art for art's sake;
indulge your poetic cravings from within.
Lead with your heart, never forsake,
the whispering verses which beckon to begin.
