I bet you rue the day you kissed the poet in the dark,
Bet you cursed at the star's alignment and the scheming cosmos.
You cursed the night you kissed the poet,
Cursed the stars that aligned for that moment.
The cosmos had conspired against you,
Set you on a path you couldn't undo.
That kiss, a catalyst for all that came,
A spark that lit a flame of poetic fame.

But now you wonder if it's a curse or a gift,
This life of verse, of words that you lift.
So you trace the path from that moment on,
The fork in the road where your life was spun.
One path led to love and another to art,
Two roads diverged and your heart took part.
You chose the path of words and rhyme,
And left behind the life you'd left behind.

Now you wonder if you chose the right road,
Or if the poet led you down a crooked abode.
But still you write, you craft your verse,
You keep writing, no matter the cost,
No matter the doubts that come to roost.
You cling to words, you craft your lines,
You pour your heart out on the page, entwined.
For even if you rue that fateful kiss,
You can't deny the joy of words that persist.

They fill your soul, they lift you high,
They give you wings to touch the sky.
You may not know where the road will lead,
But you trust the words you plant and seed.
So as you look back on that fateful day,
When you kissed the poet and found your way.
You wouldn't change a thing, not one bit,
For your words are your life, your heart's fit.

© MyrninAsterSnow