When Light craved your soul to see in kissing colors
as the evening envisioned to die in the dawn of depth,
when Soul lustered for learning, as blood bespoke to her bones
for building the star of flesh, when Time needed the resentment
of its ubiquity to be understood. The moment texture lured touch to
tease with a thousand sensations, when the labor of love sought a language
to express the extremes of its lips, as romance raged through the ravishing of
hardened hearts, when sorrow’s seduction made heroes of loving men and women.

When Justice is seduced to her innocent words,
as bravery battled the basic questions of conquest,
war demands a metaphor in the terror of its destruction,
as Faith finds resolutions to her problems in seconds,
Death wallows for relief and Life’s supercilious meaning upon its skyline.
When God wanted imagination to invent immaculate existence…
Poetry began, born as an eternal being,
because, the only vow of a Poet, is Passion!