Rejection Or a Miracle

Do you know the joy of the flowing river of words? And the waterfall of neat ephemerality? Do you know the swiftness of intertwined thoughts? Falling into the lake of language speciality? I am the river of a different shore And my style is not blessed with grace. I am rapids and their power is raw Yet contain the same motion of chase... When a song meets a singer – they dance. When thoughts meet language – they are pinnacle. When a foreigner’s soul seeks a chance… Would it find rejection or a miracle? ~~~ Side note: I have asked this question many times before: if my soul want to express and experience this world should it be restricted by the language my mind uses? -I have no answer... The art of poetic writing is a journey. To share such a journey with other travellers is a pleasure. And to enjoy an adventure one needs to be equipped, right? In being restricted by the foreign language (English in my case) should I stay away from writing altogether or go for it and hope for the thoughts to be eloquent enough despite all the barriers…?