poetry speaks to me and compels me to write, rather its feelings of joy, pain, elation, sorrow, or fright. those words scurry through my brain begging for my attention. then i listen. I pick up my pen, and tell the stories from within. And somehow they just rhyme, and flow in perfect time. I write until everything goes silent, then I can rest, cause I have done my best, I have gotten out those words that needed to be expressed. It helped me, and I hope it helped others. Its hard being obedient to this calling. but I do it because it makes me free, and I know that my purpose it to help others be free, with all of the gifts that HE has bestowed upon me. That’s why I have this joy, at this point in my life.