I come in peace
I come to write
I come to create
I come to make
I come to find
I come to discover
I come to enjoy
I come to flow
I come to burn
To burn in passion
......
A poet does not chase the fleeting fame,
For life is more than just persisting breath;
Mere words without true ground are weak and lame,
But truth revealed outlives the grasp of death.
Though oft condemned, he walks with honesty,
His ego’s shadow rests but fades away;
Each line a prayer shaped through constancy,
Rewarded by God’s grace at close of day.
......
I walk the edge where silence meets the word,
A blade of dusk between the now and then—
Each breath a question, each footfall unheard,
Yet echoing through minds of sleeping men.
The jasmine wilts beneath the neon sky,
Batiks unravel in the market’s blaze,
While puppets dance and prophets pass us by,
Their shadows stitched in time’s dissolving haze.
......
I walk the edge where silence meets the word,
A blade of dusk between the now and then—
Each breath a question, each footfall unheard,
Yet echoing through minds of sleeping men.
The jasmine wilts beneath the neon sky,
Batiks unravel in the market’s blaze,
While puppets dance and prophets pass us by,
Their shadows stitched in time’s dissolving haze.
......
A poet does not chase the fleeting fame,
For life is more than just persisting breath;
Mere words without true ground are weak and lame,
But truth revealed outlives the grasp of death.
Though oft condemned, he walks with honesty,
His ego’s shadow rests but fades away;
Each line a prayer shaped through constancy,
Rewarded by God’s grace at close of day.
......
I come in peace
I come to write
I come to create
I come to make
I come to find
I come to discover
I come to enjoy
I come to flow
I come to burn
To burn in passion
......