Poetry

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My question is a key,why was i meant to be,a writer now of late,
from my mediocre state,a humble workers sound,followed work like all around,some words are ready made,don't need a lathe or spade;
as deep as they can be,or as tall as any tree,the beauty of their kind,they can spring from any mind,and from a simple soul as me;
to an iceberg in the sea,in fair or stormy weather,words are readily put together,can be just like ten a penny,is their meaning
less than many,some can be very heady or also nice and steady,
words may be always here ,my own soul must disappear,to our GOD,
who is always there,hope to him am always near,his word i need
to hear;and also truly share.
Joe.

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