The poet is the one whose mind and heart are puzzled over things, many of them gave up.
The poet, as the last Mohican, with his art, connects immortal to mortal, in the garden of the separating paths.
The poet suggests that the beauty of the spirit of the only permanent value in relation to which everything else does not matter. It never dies and the only shining at all times
as the moonlight that with its splendour breaks the blackness of the night.
Even when it sees the dark, and when surrounded by darkness, the poet offers light.
His poems are a conscious choice by which the poet moves the boundaries of the darkness pushing him out of his world glittering path to anyone who wants to see and do not tap in the dark.
Poems are prayers with which the poet boldly breaks false, dormant peace calling for awakening and liberation from grotesque characters whose zombie-like existence kills the liveliness of art and spiritual creation.
In the rousing kiss of the poetry, the creator is ready to play their life convinced that only the beauty of pure artistic expression can win perversion.
Through the depth of their poems of which will not give up the poet shows that the bravery of authentic existence is a choice.
The poem must be an impeccably solid structure. It must be – solid.
The poem is a work of art. And the act must be closed in itself. This must be impeccable.
The one verse in the poem has several blind streets, signposts and goals than a writer ever succeeds to create a dozen pages.