Today is special...
Not because it's my birthday,
But because I reached 170 poems,
Penned by my hand.
Even though,
I'm not published for these,
Or my three books,
I have amassed a collection.
I have written the bulk in the last few years.
The best gift I gave myself today,
Is the fulfillment of a dream, not just a goal.
When I got down and out.
When I didn't write,
I felt I could not call myself a writer.
A writer writes.
An artist creates.
And for some time, I couldn't do either.
Now, more than ever I see,
Not everyone can write, or create.
Just beacuse I don't always do it,
Does not stop me from being an artist, a writer.
I have reached a spot,
Whether published or not,
I have accomplished a great deal.
For if you know me,
My life has not always lent its best stability,
So I could do these wonderful things.
When I do not write,
When I do not create,
I do not breath.
Thank you, Lord,
For this day,
For my talent,
For my accomplishments.
Thank-you,
This day, has finally came.
When the number of works does not matter
As much as the process,
As much as the recognition,
That I've always had talent,
And in your eyes,
You knew I'd get this point...
I just didn't.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME.