Poetry is the place I go at 3 o’clock in the morning

When I cannot sleep

I decide to write for my soul is cheap

And I hope that this external extremity

Would remedy the thoughtlessness I execute on a daily basis.

I live misinformed.

And I die because of it.

Poetry is the connection between experience and the wordlessness of my existence

The feelings which cannot be communicated but by nature and sound.

A mother bathing her child for the first time

A mother wishing she had bathed her child for the first time.

The death the life the end and the beginning

The unceasing loop of pain, joy and restricted freedom.

The complexity of society and man

And the simplicity of human nature

Poetry

A martyr I adore

Laughs at my poor attempts to unravel all the secrets of the world

He whispers, “try again”

And I learn I will forever be haunted by this prospect --

at least I have a place to go at 3 o'clock in the morning