I haven't written for a while,
And I don't think I will soon,
It seems as if my sun has set,
And the night has sealed my doom.

I've lost my pen in the crowds,
In the dark, roaring, and grumpy clouds,
I've lost it somewhere in the damp rooms,
Behind the back doors or the narrow streets,
In that empty alley with worn brick walls...

Perhaps I will write again.
But not here. But not now.
I am enveloped by the night,
It will take me time to find myself.

Perhaps when the morning comes
I'll write again.

And a woman who held a babe against her ***** said, "Speak to us of
Children."

And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,
not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you
with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that
is stable.

i am currently working on publishing my poetry into a collection
i don't expect to make any money
nor do i imagine that i will gain any popularity
but this is an accomplishment that has added motivation and excitement into my life
i know it will be difficult and draining
but wish me the best of luck

Saying the same words
Louder
Won't make me listen

Farewell now, peaceful dales, farewell to
Familliar hilltops that I call to
Farwell, familliar wood nearby,
Farwell, the beauty of the sky,
Farewell, glad nature that I cherish;
I am exchanging my dear peace
For noisey, glittering vanities...
Farewell my freedom that must persih!
Whither and wherefore do I strive?
What can I hope for in this life?