An idea forms; We become the stillness in motion, Between seeing and making, Contemplation or action, The words cause us to act.
We dare give eyes to the idea, And pen to paper becomes A resurrection of presences, Poetry, Like life writing itself, A day becomes dateless, Life lights up these words, We walk the path of inspiration, Truth lived and suffered , Shared rage Shared passion, Shared abyss, Shared love.....
In the end of the verse The poet transfigures Inspiration into incarnations, Given as a sacrifice of self:
All that remains are the ghosts, We are siblings in the void.