writing with a purpose.
like everything and everyone
always with a purpose...
beauty, and hope and sadness
and death and redemption...
all these have built-in purposes
but whatever that is
the things-in-themselves
without mouths speak for what they mean
outstretched tendrils looking for the ray of the sun
blooming petals wanting for someone to adore
pathways seeking themselves on a certain destinations
seas covering the earth giving way to the existence of maps
and so i write, i keep the purpose within my letters
my words that you read
this poem that shows arms opening
to embrace you and also to keep my cold heart warm.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To say, to do or to write. And you write without writer's block. Amazing!