Obscurity’s Reward

The choice to write,

a refuge,

a rebellion.

To craft worlds unseen,

to dance with language,
a way to escape the demands of being,
the relentless pull of expectations,
the weight of needing to be seen,
to be heard,

 to be validated.

Perhaps poetry is a shield,
a fortress built with words,
a space to stand apart,
to observe the world from a distance,
to find solace in the solitary act of creation.

There is a freedom in obscurity,
a quiet joy found in the quietness of imagination,
in the untamed wilderness of the soul.

The poet,

a lone traveler,
wandering through the landscapes of their own mind,
unbound by the constraints of reality’s grip,
leaving behind the clamor of the world.

But even in this solitude,
there is a yearning,
a flicker of desire to share the fire within,
to offer a glimpse of the unseen,
to illuminate the shadows with the light of words.

For poets, like fireflies in the night,
carry a luminescence,
a spark of the divine,
a reminder that even in the darkest corners,
there is beauty to be found,
Creation’s composition of words

waiting to be read,

heard,

visualized,

absorbed.