“The blood jet is poetry, and there is no stopping it,”
So the tragic Sylvia Plath muses.
As the heart pumps and beats,
It is the ever-faithful metronome,
The tempo of my life’s song;
My blood flows, pulsating passions
From my center to my extremities.
These passions are best set to words,
Hence the source and origin of
My verse…

So, beat on, heart .
I have more words to share,
I have more passions to experience.