I write to raise my voice,
to warm my freezing thoughts,
to cross my island of solitude,
tend my forest of dreams
stifled by the weeds of hate,
look after my garden of desires
strangled by ropes of time,
water my pot of perpetual hope
scorched by the hot sun of fate.

I write to restore my love
of a world gone crazy
maddened by the hearts of men.
Replenish my hopes
of an existence that lacks meaning,
a being that is of no essence.
to cut the ropes of time
and triumph,
to kill the weeds of hate
and grow,
to cool the sun of fate
and live to fight another day.

I write since I can’t talk,
I remain silent
in my darkened room of hope.
I write since I cant share,
I clench my fist
in my island of optimism.
I write since I can’t love,
I blind my feelings
in this universe filled with hate.
I write since am alive
breathing in my space,
of a world that knows no limits,
no bounds
and ultimacy.

© Eddie Ombagi (His Blog)