When you write a note, letter, poem, or a plight,
And you know it to be made of ground breaking stuff,
Rising up to the sky in emotional flight,
You wonder and ponder: will these words be enough
To raise a smile, a cry, a chuckle or a laugh
Or even a sneer, a twitch of the eyebrows?
Was the writing abrupt, awkward or even tough?
Did it hold any judgement, of the kind that grows
To be misunderstood, or taken at face value?
Words have proven so useless when they have tried to show
The Universe inside, the person that is You
That is reaching for truth, and striving to grow.
Will you get a reply? Well, most probably not:
There has been so much said, more would be overkill.
And so you wait for it, the iron is still hot,
And hope for an echo to mirror your own will.