Write a poem,
Any poem;
It can be about whatever
And take any shape you wish.
It could be about rainbows and butterflies
About the warmth of love
Or the bitterness of its passing.
It might be about the kings of old
Their eternal empires
And their now decayed might.
It might be a sonnet,
Shakespearean or otherwise.
Or perhaps something fragmented,
A falling leaf in the wind.
It could have colour; yellows and reds and oranges,
And it could resemble a horse.
It could be an assortment of stones
Of various sizes, somewhere in the woods,
Where a stranger might one day stumble upon it,
Or not.
Write a poem,
Or rather
Allow it to emerge.
Unfiltered thought in a few scattered words
Be they ink, coal or rock,
On paper or out in the world.
Write a poem,
And allow yourself to feel
The flow.
Not because anyone will read it,
Or allow it to flow through themselves.
Not because of praise or glory,
For few have that luxury.
Write a poem,
To explore your truest self.
Write a poem,
To reach for
Immortality.
