Every morning I ask myself why do I have the need to write?
Why do I have to write a poem in order to sleep?
A year ago I hated poetry like plato as a wasteful Thorough affair
What happens? Then I inquire creeping into my soul
Have You found your passions, goals, ambitions and purpose of life?
Are you a portrait of an artist ask not but dwell deep into yourself
Your expression of life itself is highest aspiration and divine
Oh how I read and write poetry like possessed by the spirit of Alexander the great to conquer all that exists into words
I write because I exist. I write as not to die of living or as living soul may not die
In order to die you must be reborn again