writing until I'm empty

I know many think

that poets are crazy.

but many of us are

sane.

we just like to express

ourselves through ink.

with pens, pencils,

quills, typewriters.

sketchings.

poems.

songs.

haikus.

if I feel blue,

or joyful.

no matter the feeling...

I write.

and write.

and write,

until the pen just glides.

until the page is filled.

until my fingers ache.

until I’ve emptied my heart..

and then I feel

light.

I feel whole.

I feel

enough.

my constant companion

was art.

is art.

and will remain

art.

until my final breath

until my chest won’t rise

no more.

until my hands give out.

until they tremble with fatigue.

until my mind falls silent.

and it can’t create up more ideas.

until I cross the bridge

I will follow

art.

in every form I can

and I will until it keeps me alive.

until I cannot write,

I will whenever I must.

and I will always leave room for

dreams,

stories,

and art.