The way he is

Nice, I could feel your words and their meaning. Keep up the prose and remember to be one with your poem. If it is real you’ll be able to feel it breath and its heart to beat. A poem is a fragment of time, a sliver of emotion trapped in our hearts and set free upon the page. Where it can finally sore and fly with other poems or cry and weep with other broken hearts. Poetry is nothing more than emotion set in motion. Poetry is seldom more than the small fossil that waits within the stone begging for someone to chip it free, and then to wonder how it came to be.

Keep up your good works. May your poems be a great frame for your emotion’s. May there be peace and love in your life. And may the mark you make upon those hearts around you be filled with joyous fragments of your own heart.

Love it