When it comes to poetry,
tackling blurred axioms,
losing one’s self in one’s self,
from nothingness explodes the spring,
of prose and verse.
When it comes to poetry,
steering volcanic eruption,
between anarchy and stillness,
from the earth’s insides flows the lava,
of letters and words.
When it comes to poetry,
the wonder of birth,
polarizing sensations of misery and joy,
from it the breathe of new life,
of hope and despair
When it comes to poetry,
treading the razor’s edge,
simultaneously light stepped and rooted footing,
from one extreme to another,
of fear and ecstasy.
When it comes to poetry,
it comes,
when it comes.