In a sea of people I'm lost in the crowd,
Take cover and hide in shadows of clouds;
Lump in my throat when trying to shout,
Tongue that is tied in several knots;
Though lacking the skills to stir and enchant,
Still I endure my spirit unbound,
For I am a soldier my sword tainted blue,
The cracks and the crevices bear blankets of bloom.
Emotions I hold imbricated in stacks,
Years of gestation bore mountains of fervour;
I harvest and scribble I foster and forge,
Chanced by a pen I drown all my doubts;
Constellations I roam with stars to conserve,
Unfold tales of old revealed by the moon;
The birds flying high and oceans below,
All know my name and beckons me on.
With feet that are firmly planted and grounded,
I thrust and take flight fuelled just by the ink;
Dreaming and racing to lands far and wide,
My fragile fingers frantically dance;
Wishing for a tether a whip or a leash,
In trying to capture the plays of my mind;
This is a gift from heaven above;
I'm free as a kite I soar when I write.