I move on a mission given at birth.
The prophecy echoed in ears gaining momentum in mind.
I was bit by spiritral bug of a creative laurett, guided to carry a backpack of colorful pens to match my words.
Pens moves gracefully in dance as if each word is a step. 
Oh To celebrate moments that pass in light breeze and mountains of scribbles
Oh to be a Spirit incarnated to be poet who agreed to come forth.
Bravo to me who now covers a snow like page with footsteps of words.
And for that I am grateful.