On Writing

By -
Don’t get me wrong.
I never was a luminary,
I never held the promise of transporting you
Into the realm of imagination
Or reflective introspection
With my humble words.
I could at most be an asteroid
In a sky lit up by stars
Basking in the reflected glory of the celestial sphere.
But even during those moments of painful awareness
Of my mediocrity
My heart remained true.

I wrote, therefore, not to impress you
Nor to transport you
Into the realm of imagination
Or reflective introspection.

I wrote to exorcise myself
Give shape to the nebulous demons
Raising up a storm inside.
And with every bud of truth
That sprouted from my pen
I reclaimed parts
That had been swallowed by the infinite darkness of the black holes
The spectres of the stars that light up the celestial sky.

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