Poetic Cry

Breath of inspiration passes through my nostrils My thoughts have been raped by my imagination But the height of my understanding is still as short as life itself So let me climb on this ladder of knowledge in pursuit of wisdom For no man is ever wise enough for himself Draw me with my Lines and label me with my letters Let the anatomy of my ideals come alive The voice of an artist the voice of a poet Of what use if creativity is deaf ....