The Life of a Poet

For me the whole universe is a stage The past, the present, the future, every people, every age I ride on the wings of my imaginations and they take me to my next place I can write on history, mysteries and on every thing my pen can engage I am a poet, a poet My pen and I are in perfect harmony I don't write for fame, neither for money But my words are the explanation of my emotions Endless like a sky and deep like an ocean They tell my hatred, fears and devotions I am a poet, a poet In people eyes I can see the pain I have the gift through which emotions can be explained I sit alone in the silence of nights, people think that I am insane But by sitting alone, nature is what I see and peace is what I obtain I am a poet, a poet One moment I am kissing a girl, next I am in another century One moment I am on Earth, next I am swimming in the lakes of mercury One moment I am a child, next I am celebrating my wedding anniversary One moment I am a thief, next I am helping to stop burglary I am a poet, a poet Last year I saw a white glistening olive tree Neither of west nor of East A tree which would glow even if wash my sea It was full of fruit for animals and beast There I had my dinner with angels and priests Then I had on the wings of my imaginations and I was released I am a poet, a poet Being a poet I have experienced a world with compassionate cries A world where there was no act of kindness, empath dies Where the wolves lives in sheeps clothing and devil lives in disguise There was not even a single wise guy, it was a world full of lies A dark place where the sun neither sets nor rise I am a poet, a poet I have also experienced a world where angels sing you lullabies A place where nobody ever cries, where only love and love lies Justice prevails all over it, even lion and deer lives in peace Here the birds wake you up with their sweet melodies I am a poet, a poet The example of my words can be found in oceans which flow My inspiration can be found in thousand flakes of snow I can write on beauty which falls in the form of rain Or on the beauty I see in the fields of ripening grain I understands the melody of the bird which sings In my dreams, I imagine thousand splendid things I am a poet, a poet 23 September 2018