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AT MY WRITING DESK
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AT MY WRITING DESK
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I find freedom in these moments of solitude at my desk,
My pen scratching away without the slightest protest, Blue ink flows forth like waters of an unending river, As words begin filling up this blank sheet of paper.
The sighing wind makes the papers around me flutter,
Like the wings of a bird with ruffled feathers, Everything is reduced to gamut of messiness and clutter, Yet beneath all this chaos lies a sense of order.
Wave after wave of emotions well up in my soul,
So intense and overwhelming I cannot seem to control, The speed of my hand as I continue to write, My mind blanketed by the darkness of the night.
As my thoughts start to take the form of words,
The voice within me just waiting to be heard, Speaks with each and every stroke of my pen, I express my feelings in the best way I can.
The power of these written words set me free,
The shackles that bind me are unlocked by this key, Liberated, uninhibited like an eagle I soar, I am no longer trapped behind bolted doors.
Poetry, a beautiful God-given form of literature,
Created to provide spiritual enrichment and pleasure, Verse upon verse written on every aspect of life, Tales of ease and comfort, stories of suffering and strife.
In the stillness of the night I find peace,
As well as the much sought-after release, As I sit here contentedly at my writing desk, My tumultuous heart finds a place of rest.
*Rajwinraj*
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