Wandering through a light that burns

Wandering_through_a_lightEdna St. Vincent Millay once said, referring to the kind of life that she has led, about her candle that “burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends–it gives a lovely light.” That there is connection between passion and giving, even if the process costs the person everything, will create a beauty out of that person for all to see. So, to base with this concept, whatever it is we are so passionate about of doing is the one thing that will define us.

That is what it is, but not all form of passion would apply to this though. Some passions are potentially harmful to the moral landscape of human progress. Writing is what I am so passionate about and it has consumed me little by little because, little by little, it feeds me more of something.

It is to be exposed to such a field of energy by letting everything of you to be absorbed which you can as well take something and you will never be the same again. It’s kind of like an itch at first then into a habit, until you will come to so much fall in love with it.

There’s no way you can get better at writing than to just write, write, and write. Yet some writers, including myself, at some point of their lives, will generally do everything to avoid writing. But like a true lover, a writer who is so crazily in love with his craft, he will find it sweeter the second or many times around though.

Writing is too broad, so I’m going to narrow it down to this: poetry writing. Call it Destination: Poetry: a sphere of activity I have created to house and to hopefully give my readers the insights and ideas for whatever it is I can possibly give a voice and share. But then, my dear readers, for all of you to be able to understand it all, I want you to get lost with me, wandering through a light that burns:

Twenty years later, today,
is to know exactly what I’ve tried to show.
The point of

The suddenly crowding of—
Almost never came

With prospects and constitution,
exactly where it went.
How to end the sentence

Has become the minutes
of infinity
for what I’m looking at

For how long.
But now the whole thing
is why it disappeared.

I’m returning by
what will take me here.
But how did you get here?

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