Why I was born

I was born to write

To use the pen and wash away the pain 

To fell and then later rise. 

I was born not perfect 

To wet eyes and later dry

I may fly so high today and go beneath the soil the next day. 

I was born to be bright 

To shine not like the sun but as a legitimate son

To smile and make others too smile. 

I was born to pray 

To pray with no delay

Because for once I haven't dreamt of escaping that clay.