Sew it on your own
With your own thoughts
What is the first thing that came to your mind
The first thing that crossed your mind
It has to mean something
Everything can fade away
In no time and even the ashes
Embrace it before they fade away
Embrace their meaning
Before regret falls down on you
Like heavy raindrops that kill
Despite the life you are living
Regret will haunt you
Everywhere you go
Unless you began to fill your poem
With the first thing that visited your mind
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – -,
– – -, – – – – – – – – – – – – -.
Can’t you still fill the spaces?
Even the poem that has no words
Could still give a meaning
The Wordless poem
Is like silence, speaking with your inner self to another inner self.
Maybe through the eye language or a hand touch sensation.
By then, it should have meant something
But, it did not happen.
The poem still needs words to be read
And to be felt.
The spaces even if it had a meaning, are yet still empty.
Till when you will leave them empty
Till when you will continue walking away
Till when you will let the fear suck the life out of your body.
Still uncertain, still unsure as hell.
Still not knowing what you want
Or maybe you do
But what you want
Is not coming your way
And you still believe something better stored for you in the undiscovered treasure.