I was a writer
And so I wrote
But for myself
Until the day
I found someone who
Needed me
And so for her
I wrote
And she alike
Until the day
I found a man who
Needed no one
And so for him
I wrote.
I purged my soul
Of impure thought
I sought
To be an individual
And in this act
I found myself
Accepting nothing
But for the
Absolute
And for no one
But myself
So I am left
With nothing
Save my writing
And as for being
There is nothing
Greater