Being a poet

The thrill of leadership

Being a poet
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The birth of victory is a personal responsibility. Sometimes luck evades you, but what matters most is your next step. You should strive until you get what you deserve. Bruises, dirt, and blood are inevitable, but the crown rests on the head of the one who strives honestly and consistently.

For supremacy of words, my wish was strong

My solo strength was weak, had to hunt brilliancy for a hold

The fountain was within, yet too distant for a rapid sight and grasp

The strife took all summer

 

Across the horizon, I familiarized

In majestic libraries, I frequented

In deserted hilltops and riverbanks, I dwelled

But had I traveled to the soul?

 

The push and pull caused a scare

I spent time doing a stare

It was a grand nightmare

Folks labeled me doctrinaire  

 

I trembled because of age, the wounds of past strife

And the memories of memories made in the dense pine trees

Today, the knife of dreams rests on my palm,

Sharp, strong and stain free and I am ready to make the first incision.

 

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