by M. Joseph

Created on: January 17, 2009   Last Updated: November 21, 2011

Involved in self.
Understanding not much, but
Questioning always.
Laying words like
Pieces to an
Intricate puzzle, the
Desired final image
A clear picture of
Self.
World.
Life.

Mind filled with
Hopeless works, fodder
For the ones that
Take shape.
Writing not for
Others first,
Rather to rid the
Mind of growing
Pressure.

A composer,
A painter,
A sculptor,

A philosopher indulging in
Personal beliefs,
But adapting to
A world that needs
Clarity, but grows
Only murkier.

These people grow,
Not by choice,
But by a steady
Push from
Who knows where.
A poet.

Who takes steps along
Paths not clear to
Them, but clearly
Unavoidable.

Poets.

Those who write,
Because words
Don't die when left
Alone, but instead
Fester and inflame
The mind,

And must be released,

Giving in the end some
Reason,
Some rhyme to the
Uncertainties and irrationalities
Of life.

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