Inner Verse

All in ink,
Each new word flows,
From the depths of which,
No one else knows.

Soul searching,
From deep within,
A bright passion burns,
Rhythm akin.

Emotion pours,
Out on the page,
Each word an actor,
Each line a stage.

Joy, anger,
Sweet misery,
Its influence knows,
No boundary.

Simply words,
Yet so much more,
Through ink, it’s grounded,
Yet the heart soars.

Life it gives,
In its own birth,
A priceless gem,
Of no real worth.

Poetry,
Will always be,
Inevitably,
A part of me.