What makes a work of poetry, a deep, quality work of art? Is it the feelings associated with it or the careful crafting of words? All I have is questions, nothing but questions.
I have never thought about writing a poem, until few days. A single post, which sparked a interest in my heart, I wrote something. Words flowed out of me without trouble. Not sure of what to call it, because I have been a terrible reader over the years. I couldn’t identify what that is I have written. But it was different from anything I have ever written. I thought it had a soul. I loved it.
I though I unlocked a door. A door to a life, where I am naturally good at something. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Days passed, my well of thoughts was still dry. Nothing flowed or not even stumbled out of me. I didn’t want to give up. I took it up on myself to teach me. If I am not going to be a natural, I would substitute talent with hard work. It is not an easy task, but I love it every second. Yet, There is a doubt, which haunts me.
should I search my heart to fuel my fire of art?
Should I sharpen my words to craft an art of my mind?
Original photo by Igor Miske.
Check out his and other amazing works at Unsplash.