These words don't belong to you
or me

They come from down deep
From the low guttural rumblings
Of our sleeping planet

They come on the wind
as it flies into your ears and eyes
forcing you to take that deep breath: inspire

They come, gently, from the trees
whispering the song of the season
as you stroll beneath their branches

They come from the heart
as it pumps blood through us tenuously, with a rhythmic beat

They come from the stardust
of a thousand dreamy worlds
drifting slowly through the universe
and out the tips of our pens

i wrote a lot of great poetry when i was in love
i wrote even better poetry when i was in pain
i wrote the best poetry when i realized that the two emotions were actually the same.