One could not exist
without the other.
They practically live
for one another.
I should know,
I’ve seen them both.
Up close and personal
together, they make art.
Such beauty they make,
no one can contest.
More beautiful than sunshine,
seas, rains, or the forest.
They make “Love”
greater than it actually is.
They have the capacity
to make the world
a much better place.
They both can create a space
for your troubles to rest.
Create a dimension
where all your fantasies subsists.
The glossy black machine
that makes up the typewriter,
the flawless smoothness
of any kind of paper.
The only thing missing
are the thoughts that ponders,
on your heart and mind
where live the poets’ candour.



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