From the Mind To the Heart

Where does one begin to write, away from the streets' nioses and children's screams, forgetting those bouts of loneliness that evade the inner peacefulness? One starts with a pad, jotting down appealing ideas... never having to fear they'll be lost. I have a private place where I compose a new poem, then read it aloud to myself; such a place has a window that opens to the brilliance of a blessed day, and sunlight impinging, highlights its words to amaze me of a would-be greatness. After midnight I refuge to this quite corner, when most people sleep and the luminiscent moon projects her beams to enlighten my dreamy face, I stare back at her and wave as I do with friends; moon as eternal as unseen planets more colorful, do you have the faintest idea why I indite? Some write for fame, others to empty their souls of painful reasons, or to glorify Heaven and love for their continous existence, but invoking death instead of life is so detestable and inexcusable; and from their voices I reckon the useslessness and torment... may I never become like them, to burn hope in blazes of smoke, watching its incineration until it turns into hot ashes! I write out of an urge, which swells inside and needs to burst out, leaving my psyche, to let it land on prude hands that welcome my gift, until I pulsate with satisfaction, and purging those who show dissidence... might raise questions for them who are easily aroused to anger; I create more in quietitude....not being disturbed by airplanes' roars, or trains speeding on tracks making all windows vibrate. From the ancient to the modern poets, their intellect is stimulated by urban or rustic sourroundings, and I have choosen them both in my writings, and they manifest themselves glowingly, enticing this reason for existing; open my pages and read all the passionate verses exciting the eye and pleasing the soul: these are from the mind to the heart, a testimony of an enthustiastic life... streaching out to every boundery and race, making everyone savor my delights. Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci