Imagination is the river
that guides the quill.
Dreams the sailing ship
that unleashes the voyage
through the pages of a poets mind.
.
To write is to find
the meaning of love.
Where beauty opens the gate,
to a never ending yellow brick road
Of human emotion.
For that is what we seek.
.
The pen can create gods
and mortal frailty.
Sunshine is the span of life,
darkness is forever
and within these letters
we find immortality.
.
Beauty is found in pain
hope is an emerald sea,
envy comes from Oscar’s words
and belief becomes a prejudice.
The pen will drown your epitaph
for the Cyclops knows his destiny
.
Words can be a jigsaw of fears,
Or a rose sculptured in the heart.
All belong to confession,
trapped in the confetti of poems
which hide behind a harlequin mask
though a poets heart,
is for all to see
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