Birthed purely of Godly intellect.
Words of a language, perfect;
Curved from the divine alphabet-
With not a single flaw or defect.

Like wordy pieces of fine fabric-
Not too light, yet not too thick,
With every rightly purposed stitch-
Making me more and more unique.

Like the footprints of fate's pen-
Trekking down pages of life's lane,
I'm those words; that mark; that line-
Fathomed solely by few special men.

Fluent rushing blood, surging dreams,
Like waters down divine streams,
Hopes and wits like emptying seas;
Into lifeless pits through many limbs.

I'm the very primary meeting spot-
Of ink and page, deed and thought.
The expression of genuine mental might,
The last puzzle piece, the connecting dot.

I am food for thought in every verse.
The right for wrong the better for worse.
I am a reflection of power and greatness,
The written miracle, the lift of a curse.

I'm a sweet ballad, penned just right-
With a touch of metaphorical insight.
A metred meal for a hungry mind,
Corrective lenses for mental sight.

I'm the union of ugly and beauty;
The matrimony of wish and duty;
The product of pollute and purity;
Black on white, from God to men,

I'm poetry.

Keep Smiling