My poem

 Life is hard,

long-lasting or brief,

heavy or light.

Life serves,

serves its servant.

I invented my own poem,

to keep myself alive, just

and to sip the possible time

and conquer the impossible.

Here’s the drama:

The poet dreams,

dreams the pain,

the poet sings,

sings the pain,

the poet declaims,

declams the pain

The poet breathes in

breathes in the pain,

the poet illuminates

illuminates the pain

The poet loves

loves the pain.

the poet thinks

thinks the pain.

Even without logic,

he, the poet, lives and dies,

and dashes, runs down his hallway,

without stopping,

always aiming for a new journey.

If he achieves nothing

in his poetic prayers

in his pathetic poems

he complains

claims the pain for himself.