Although he did not know it
It was the rise and fall of this poet.
Words are a universal language all by itself
It could take you to heaven, or bring you down to hell.
Words are like rivers, streams and oceans
Moving freely with emotion.
The slightest ripple is a creation
Of love, joy, sadness and devastation.
Everyone is different from each other
Opening poets mind- making him wonder.
Now his mind has become like a glazier
Frozen at a complete stand still
Or moving so slowly without direction
Not knowing love, not knowing affection.
Will it melt and become like the flowing
Waters once again?
Or will this be the final end?