I woke up this morning thinking of my last poetry. It was done just before bed, before I tuned in to the creative frequency, and activated the poetic code. That was way long before the Sun silently crept into the deep, Taking with it its illuminous web. The sun which brightly hugs everything, Is the inspiration for my poetic vocation.
I woke up early this morning Thinking of my first poetry. I want it done just before noon, which is an ideal time of the day. That ball of fire, millions of miles away, Doesn't only shine, it inspires. If the sun rays engulf everything, The potent glow of the sun might ruin and overexpose nature's beautiful hues, one of the inspirations of my poetic vocation.