Think not of the fragility of life, but of the power of books, when mere words can change our lives simply by being next to each other.

All kinds of people read poetry: revolutionaries, scholars, sentimentalists etc. But above all else, lovers read poetry. Why? Because we fell in love. And then we fell in love with love.

I began to write because of love. I wrote to understand what I felt and what I knew.

Here's another poem,like all others before and after,dedicated to you.There isn't anything left to be saidbut I will spend my lifetrying to put you into words.You who is every goodness,every optimismand hope.Your love is a better fate for methan anything I could wish for.If you are a part of me, then you’re the best part.And if you're separate from me, then you are my destination.But I’ve become a weary traveller,so please,let us never be apart.

Art doesn’t give rise to anything in us that isn’t already there. It simply stirs our curious consciousness and sparks a fire that illuminates who we have always wanted to be.

All I need to dois place my pen against paperand your lovewrites for me.

These poems are cupsthat I pour my life into.Here, Drink!

I came to pen another poem for you, but even every unwritten poem is you.

There is no revelation in my words. I am merely stating what others have forgotten to write down.