Passion

The serenading stream leaps in swirling rapture in the dancing shadows of the swaying trees. The diamond dew drops draping the glinting grass tips lace lilting lattice on the adorned meadow. The drizzling moon dust from the satin sky embellishes the pearlescent waves of the rolling sea. In all these I look enthused for my muse. Up above the majestic mountain’s sliding slopes waits the sun-soaked summit of ecstasy to be climbed. Down the verdant valley’s slithering spine cascades sapphire stream to the picturesque plains. The rain-washed sky spreads the tapestry of dreams of chromatic imagery on rainbow-arched horizon. In all these I seek out fervent for my muse. The sun rises with the grandeur of joyful dawn, lifts the veil of miasma from the depth of despair. The wind of imagination blows in the mindscape, raises from dust all the dormant emotions, turning them into a surging storm of creative urge, on its wings I fly in the inspired firmament. That’s when my passion makes me a poet.