An idea forms;
We become the stillness in motion,
Between seeing and making,
Contemplation or action,
The words cause us to act.
We dare give eyes to the idea,
And pen to paper becomes
A resurrection of presences,
Poetry,
Like life writing itself,
A day becomes dateless,
Life lights up these words,
We walk the path of inspiration,
Truth lived and suffered ,
Shared rage
Shared passion,
Shared abyss,
Shared love.....
In the end of the verse
The poet transfigures
Inspiration into incarnations,
Given as a sacrifice of self:
All that remains are the ghosts,
We are siblings in the void.