Sylvia Plath




"Do you know what a poem is ...?"

"No, what?"

"A piece of dust."


With just words, a poem is nothing but dust. Filled with emotion, it becomes something greater than just words - it soars. It is not out of an illusion of Greek necessessity that we live, alone. It is only when we become one, that the words and emotion give wings to the poem, to soar beyond our narrow existence to become something greater. It is always your choice whether the words soar or our lives are lived simply, apart.








Bell Jar