Ars poetica

It is so easy to write about love when you have never felt it truly. Or is it merely fulfilled love that cannot be fantasized about, because it is perfect and any additions would detract from its beauty, from its charm? Perhaps. But I know that my love killed my inspiration. Which is perfect by me.

I absolutely cannot write well when happy and tranquil. My best poems are those written either on the eve of an exam or when under emotional pressure or stress. A means of calming myself: a refuge. Altogether unnecessary when I have something so much better at hand - so much more fulfilling. If it shall ever cease to be, I might return to poetry. But I hope it to remain a barter and not a reprieve.

Happiness cannot be expressed in words. Not suitable ones, at any rate. Maybe that's why I find it so hard to write poetry where the religious element predominates. Because He, along with everybody else so closely tied to Him, makes me happy.

So... I leave you now, in the posture of an altogether mediocre and tentative poetess, but very happy young woman. Bliss follow all of you wherever you go, dear ones. Doamne ajuta!