Sometimes I stare at an object and try to make some sort of connection through its physical being and the life I'm living now.
I always thought poetry was to be an expression of how someone was feeling or the struggles they have been through as some sort of venting relieve from the world. But now I realize its much more. Poetry is whatever you want it to be. A story, and feeling, a want, a need, even imagination .
Theirs no need for structures, stanzas, or rhymes. You give it thought, and a meaning will arise.
Besides poetry I love to express my words through playing guitar. Although I love to write lyrics for them I never seem to use them when I play because I hear the words with ever pick and strum of the strings. And as I lit a candle to play among the flicker of
It's light. To play of a valentines day love from long ago. A love I will never have again with that same individual. I stared into the light to understand why it
Never worked out. And yes I probably sound very superstitious with fate and all. But as I looked into the flame I realized, that the wick the wax so lovingly grasped slowly became a liquid . And as the flame made its way down to its final flash all that was remaining was a charred string. And I found myself finally breaking free from my heartache of misfortune.
You can't go on being
Miserable over one little thing, over one little person. Yea, that candle may have been the best light you have seen, but their is plenty more out there, and with a little effort to pull a Match, You can light a new candle.