Why Poetry
There was no purpose or plan
No mentor took me by the hand
I never knew 'if', 'what', or 'how'.
But I know why I became a poet.
To gaze upon an entity
To observe a person
To listen to sounds
To feel, to touch,
To inhale aromas
unsensed by others.
That's why I became a poet.
Moreover, to listen
to the fleeting heartbeat
and unspoken words of a
dying one awaiting the
entry of an angel.
That's why I became a poet.
Furthermore, to know
the pain of one who has
lost his way and finding
a way to restore hope to him.
Indeed, to remind such ones
that we all fail in some way.
That's why I became a poet.
To open the eyes of ones too blinded
to see the beauty inside of them;
to help release the pain within.
That's why I became a poet.
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