Philosophical Planet

I feel like
a tiny planet
facing in the
direction of a
universe of deaf
ears, as I revolve
in my own attempt
to capture the vision
of eyes blinded by
dust trapped within
the suns rays

If my written words
are worthless, of
no value having a
lack of vegetation
to the heart

As living waters of
the sea's never
cease to die, yet
continue the race
moving forward

Constantly asking
" would my words
be held accountable,
as a living, breathing
planet that brings
life to the deaf
and blind"

Are my words observed
as meaningless to those
with no poetic expression

Is is every writers
curse to bear a
thorn, as if to
keep the writer
in search of
the one true
poetic form

Over and over
I contemplate on
these things with
a trembling fear
of anticipation

Animus knowing the
outcome and to have
to take this to
my grave, being
selfish in my way
of seeing things.

By. Vanessa Ramos