Wamiq ‘Ali Abdus Sabur
Why?? Why do I write prose and poetry? What significance do the words hold? How do I distinguish what is correct or incorrect? Is it all about an emotion, a thought of the mind in motion, a beat of the heart, or a note of music to the soul? Why do I try to express what I feel in words that rhyme, where from time to time the words can be out of context? Where do all the words come from and why do I torture my soul to provide meaning for their existence? Why? Why? Why? There are so many questions, yet we cannot distinguish how everyone views the words and notes, knowing that each individual has a different mindset and understanding of the reading in their own way. Why do I continue to write down blurs of the imagination, words that fly relentlessly through my entire being? Why, so that I may be analyzed, criticized, or amorously endeavored in some else’s life other than my own? The “why” is continuous. The “why” is endless. The “why” is meaningful. The “why” is the center of my critical view of self and the softness of my every surrounding.
