It lurks at the back of your consciousness.
It dwells in the pit of your stomach.

It is strong.
Strong enough to exist -
behind the facade of calm demeanors.
Strong enough to swim against the currents
of indoctrinated beliefs of righteousness.
Strong enough to be the wrong amidst all rights.

It is the speaker for the voiceless.
It is the doer for the incapable.
It is the strength for the weak.
It is sweet escape for the trapped.

Listen...

It's there in the lull.
When all is quiet, you hear it.
Whispering, inciting, winning you over.

It will take you over.
It will steer the wheel.
But only if you want it just as much.

I sculpt like clay, words into form.
Form into expressions.
Expressions into eyes.

I wander in a sea of words.
Words into magical waves.
Waves into sentences

I feel words inside heart.
Heart that explodes in grace
Grace that touches my poems.

I midwife my poems of light.
Light that hugs the many.
Many that sit as audience to read.