To Write With Meaning Poem by Je'free Y .

Some are born to eat fire. Others, to juggle knives.
I was born not just to be amused by them
For that will be like my own early death.
My purpose is to have a purpose, not to be wasted.
If I do not write anything of value, or even forget writing,
Then call me stupid, a drifting thing, a languid being -
Like being a sundial in a shade; or a seed
That never blossomed with its flowers, fruitless.

Let me see beyond what has been done,
And look towards what can be done,
Not for fame nor fortune nor power
For none of these will bring me peaceful sleep;
Not for becoming a clone of each other,
But to recognize and learn each other.
And though my mind and hands have limits,
Opportunities to grasp on to are infinite.

I was not born to solve the problems of the universe,
But within my comprehension, in my own little way,
I ought to write, to touch, to inspire.
The only way I find essence in existence -
When I devote my verses to readers, other than myself.
I do not want to just die. I do not want to just live.
To express love foremost, to write with meaning -
That is my personal decision.