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.
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