The hollow in me

Yearns for a fill

Like a pipe for a piper

Stick your wonderful lips

And fire my flute

I will then sing the destiny

Of conquerors in me


These arms of mine

Yearn for wings

Like an eagle scaling the heavens

Lend your flight

And the wind

I will reach the Orion



Every poem

Needs a rhythm

To charm

And metaphors

To mint the crowns

For a poet's many dreams



Every man

Needs the strength of your eyes

To conquer the darkness of his prison

And attain

The digits of freedom

On your fingertips