Journal
Each piece of me is in its pages,
Even as the tempest rages,
The darkness I fight,
Even as I anticipate heaven’s light.
It’s a window into me,
My sojourn across tempestuous sea,
I script my today,
As I glance through yesterday.
It’s a door into my chamber,
As I write when I’m called from my slumber,
My love for nature and the arts,
I share some parts.
The memories of bloom,
The gloom that pervades my room,
They find away into it,
It bears all that are deemed fit.
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