My friends

I am no poet, far from it. To consider me a poet would be an insult to the true poets out there, the Neruda, Gibran and Hughes of our times. What I am is a fortunate individual who exists in the presence of inspirational people. People whose very lives are a never ending source of brilliance. People whose fond regards of me, despite their esteemed stations, raised me upon a pedestal that I never dared myself to scale.

You may perceive the wonders of an eclipse in the pond, but that is nothing compared to the real one happening in the sky. Such is the greatness of those who surrounds me, that by mere proximity alone, you mistake me for their awesomeness.

I am no poet, but a mere sounding board resonating their beauty. I am a prism to their light. A bystander may mistake me for the origins of a rainbow; but in truth, that spectrum is inspiration amplified. I am nothing and my aspirations delusional in their absence. So you see, all these imagery, all the poetry, they are but mere reflections of true greatness emitted by those around me.I am just fortunate to be close by to grasp a few crumbs; the residual of their grace is sufficient.