Art of Writing
Holding
the Pelikan pen, gazing at the papyrus
Wandering
through the immense forest,
Where
there babbles my mind without rest.
Whence comes this ephemeral voice
Which
assists my writing
As
if words were divine entities
Longing
for a paradisal harmony.
There are no genuine occasions to write poems so it's so satisfying to compose dozens of them. I think we all are artists in one way or another. It's so fascinating to discover a new facet of language.
Good night.
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