The God of Poetry

I apologise to the God of poetry
that I wasn’t writhing for the right reasons all the times.

I confess that exhibition and arrogance
were amongst my reasons.

I am grateful
poetry took mercy on my soul
and while punishing me,
also purified me.

Poetry connected me to the fire,
to the passion
that without poetry
is never translated to any human tongue.

The warmth that intoxicates the earth to blossom,
the passion that turns the sounds to music,
rocks to sculptures,
words to serenades,

the passion making all the elongations
to rise like snakes out of their baskets of banality,

the dance of fire,
the unity of all the combustibles!

Now I can walk on the water
yet not on the hard grounds
of this
very
heartlessness.