Poetry, the power to conceive an experienced emotions,
letting it loose in freedom, spoken tongue and fluttering
eyes, reliving an foundation to move forward. Knowing
full well, that death is definite. While I’ll speak as others
read. I do wonder what freedom is made from. Whether
it’s in this life or the next. Until the end of time, I’ll continue
in poetry and so far, it’s the best form comfort outside the
lovers arms of safety.