To write from one’s heart,
the sweetest of art,
Valentine’s every day.
To write from ones soul,
a most serious goal,
but stillness has its sway.
To write from the head,
the world’s just our way.
In time and space and geography’s place;
people rush by, each a new face.
All’s directing a no act play.
Scenes overlap and curtains fall,
script’s blank await the call.
Silence screams its say.
A choice to write’s a right to choose.
When darkness consumes the bright side we lose,
left only with blue and gray.
If a life imagined we’re to create,
chapters mate and thoughts relate.
The end’s let to stray.