I breathe, I muse, I pen.
I soar, I rove, I ken.

What is the essence of my being?
Do I have a will or am I fleeing?

I seal my sentiments mute and blind.
I crave no solace, no one to mind.

I grasp that naught can be altered.
I tread where I am steered by the haltered.

I cherish my haven of dome.
I thrive in my realm of poem.

This is the blaze I ever ignite.
This is the maze I never alight.

© Nik Celeste