I discovered my passion for composing poems when I was a high-school freshman. I sharpened the tip of my pencil for about two years, before I had the courage to cry out the words. I kept it all in the bottle. Some of my poems outlived long seasons of fermentation, and some evaporated. And in spite everything else, it is by God's grace that I could let them go.
Take your freedom to wander through my poems. Keep me learning, too.
He saw me on the other side of the glass-
the chasm which separates us into two different worlds
His eyes were filled with wanting.
'twas all over his face, he didn't need any words.
...
A song that hides on wonders, she finds a way;
A wind that sails overseas, she seizes the day;
The firmament of joy she brings.
A lullaby to the heart, beauty she sings.
...
I am my face of fear
I look not on my fate.
Does not feel, does not hear;
Destiny calls, 'It's never too late! '
...
A painter may I be, I’ll understand,
“You cannot be a painter if you cannot paint”
Therefore, without arms, I’ll keep my dreams in a vision and I’ll stare on that tabula rasa
I’ll sketch with the point of my view, and when my tears fall down, they will spread like a blanket of Astra
...