A poet's prayer

Owen Zantsi
Aug 1, 2025
1 min read

God, how I love to write.

How I love to lose myself to the paper.

Liberating myself of the burdensome thoughts

I dare not say out loud.

How I love to watch as my soul spills out

Of the catacombs of my heart.

Slow at first, but soon it burts

Like a dam overflown.

God, if there is one,

let me praise you now.

For your creation is my salvation.

Comments

I'll admit it. I can't tell the difference between what's ai and what isn't.

I suppose such an idea reeks of my ignorance,doesn't it? You're probably telling yourself that this is not how the world works. I know that.

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Comments

I'll admit it. I can't tell the difference between what's ai and what isn't.

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