Photo by Clever Visuals on Unsplash

Invisible we are, until we are found

We write upon the cosmos,
transcribed hearts true home.
Enters unknown,
made certain as rooted tree.
Out of thin air,
made up reality or As It Is.
Published song,
written words.
Egos wish,
letting go aspiration.
Message is,
as it always was.
Meant platform,
hearts true home.
Lost in the shuffle,
write where we ought to be.

~Ani Po