Original Poems

The Poetic Striving

Brand New

Language
Like life
Grows and morphs
From generation to generation

Sometimes
We need
More than what
Our language can give

So
We stretch
The very limits
Of our word sense

Bending
Shaping and
Flaking our words
In Byzantine mind creations

Which
Like night-moths
Seek the light
They will perish in

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