A natural, universal power came.  Controlled by whispers and held back by mist, Cognitive function--needing relief--sometimes the smallest voices launch the louder ones back into oblivion.  Warrior roars;my relationship with the spoken wordis in total silence--behind my pencil,behind my keyboard,albeit speaking volumes becoming a legend as no one sees my face;they only (see) my words which tells enough--pain, sorrow, happiness rainsunder the umbrella of personal growth.  Poetry leads,gives a voice to the silent and acts as a bandaid to the broken-- my relationship started in the mirror,I may no longer be broken, but I bleed the universe when I write.