Write for whom I ask
Readers, do they really care
Immensely immersed in imbued imagination
Thoughts transcending timeless travel towards
Eternity, endlessly do I create
Write for my own pleasure
Regaling hopefully all my readers
In you I find my redemption
To all of you there
Ever gratefully send my love
Write with purpose I don’t
Ready to admit my fault
Inside me always a turmoil
Thinking if readers will like
Even little of I write
Writing is not for glory
Rather inconspicuous that I am
Inflated ego I don’t have
Tremble even thinking of that
Enlightenment is all I seek
Writing is not for money
Really the pleasure is mine
In writing I find freedom
Totally selfish, yes I am
End of story, or poem
Fleeting Muse 