The Poet

I create the words… an orchestry of thought as written down. A reader’s paradise… dancing to the words without a sound. To be a poet… words are my family, their voices my home. The creations… a divine purpose, penned from poem. The words like out of control boulders… a reader can’t get out of the way. Miners of invoked emotions.. until the payoff they stay. Words are comfort… a blank canvas of beauty… for all to see. An architect’s landscape of imagination… and all… the dreams that be.