I write because I have to - - - - -
It's not a choice
It's something
that I must do,
like eating or sleeping.
It is a burning desire
inside of me
that keeps an eternal flame
for the written word.
It comes in spurts
Sometimes my mind is empty,
the page remains blank
Other times the Muse
is evident in full force,
the words flow
In a certain sense
it is all one big mystery,
but the confrontations are overrun
by the constant essence
of my yearnings
to remain the Poet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem