Why do I write?

My pen glides across to the right,

speedily, scribbling,

as my thoughts and emotions spill across the page.

Somtimes for just a moment at least,

A piece of my soul

becomes exposed through a sudden crack

I have created in my wall.

I share a piece of my

mind, heart, and soul,

to whomever I may choose,

through my poetry,

in the hopes that maybe

I can make a difference in this world.

Breaking down my wall to them,

hoping they will shine some light into my heart;

hoping they will be inspired to open to another.

If everyone in this world became even just a little more

trusting, open, kind, and most important loving,

well that wouldn't be such a bad thing;

in fact, it may create a better place for all.

Every soul is good,

some just need a little light shined into them,

through them,

to bring them out from behind their high walls

and dark, narrow, caves.

Writting does not come effortlessly to me.

Ever so often my pen comes to a halt

and twiches unnaturally in my hand,

it has a mini spasm everytime my brain pauses to think.

However, I choose to write, and work at writting,

for the rest of my life,

in order to piece by piece,

take down some of this wall

I have spent my whole life building up;

so as to let some light reach my heart.

Poetry is a great art

which I love to practice,

however music,

is my true and natural art.

I am a part of music;

music is a part of me.

Art and music are

plentiful and expance,

they can be simple, or very complex,

like the blue sky above us.

surrounding us,

enveloping us,

we are with it, in it,

yet still able to observe it.

Art and music play an equal part with gravity

in holding me and many others down to the ground,

grounded mentally, and physically to the earth.

All around us everyday,

the earth is an art gallery,

with a live symphony orchestra playing at the grand opening.

Music is in you and me,

flows through me;

sending chills down my spine when a pianist hits a high F,

and raises goosebumps on my arms when a soprano hits a high G.

Sends my foot a tappin when my little brother beats with his drums,

and my head bangin when my older brother mixes and creates.

Just as music is in us,

art is also ingrained in our souls,

Tickling my my ears upon hearing

an Alluring Alliteration.

and setting my face to a smile  

when i read a mesmerizing metaphor.

The two in themselves have the power to make one

laugh, cry, smile, maybe even bite your nails from fear.

They have control over your feelings;  

reach into your heart either with a warm loving touch,

somtimes a hook, which pulls hard, wanting to rip it up your throat, or out your chest,

or maybe even a defibrilater, sending jolts of antisipation, or shocks of fear.

When the two are pared you can loose yourself,

time can stop,

indescribable wonder, at the overload of sences.

This is what I strive for,

I write for my music,

for my art.

When my thoughts and emotions that I poured out onto the page,

are pared with the melody that rings in my ears and head;

not only is my soul exposed through the words, you can hear my souls song,

and see the emotion reflected on my face.

The notes escape my fingertips

as the piano, or ukalele join in my expression.

When my song comes to an end

I am liberated;

the binds constricting my heart have been released.

I have broken down a piece of my wall,

each note I played created a crack,

soon exposing my heart,

enabling it to radiate and absorb the light.