|
A collaboration with Joel Rincon:
As I sit here and write this poem, I put a small part of my soul in it. My spirit and feelings lie deep within these words. I can write about you but generally I write about me and parse what I feel. I could write about death but in reality I would expatiate about my obscure feelings and sere soul.
A poem is an inspired thought put on paper so that the individual will not forget that precise moment and how it'd feel being devoured in that particular dream. As you read, I pray that an inspirational flame will penetrate through you and ablaze like the hearth of hell; reincarnating you into my soul, as my spirit's found its form in florid conflagration. You'll be enticed by my light.
As I sit here in staid silence and watch you read this poem, I see that I let you espy into an immure portal of my being. I allow you to see my pain and my joy. I see you smile and weep at the tone of the poem as you reach out and cogitate my significance. This is what inspires me most.
My friends, my family and all that are around me reveal where my talent lies. Where the gift is-it's in you; you exculpate me as you give my quietus and sanctum. Your love heals my idiosyncrasy and chronic desolation, for I am a valetudinarian in death row, waiting to be saved.
As I sit here writing this, I think of my beloved ones who I have and who I've lost. I praise God for such blessings in my life. That is why my family, friends and I are a part of my spirit and a part of who I am. They're an extension of my existence, my being and my soul. I care for them better than I care for myself. They're the flame of my inspiration.
|