His genes are spiritual

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Poetry is the feather of the tongue, the depths of the artist, the canvas of the shores, the embrace of colors, the witness of the place, and the meaning of time, all in the hands of a human being on the remains of a corpse.
Every heart is a poet, but not every tongue is moistened with the eloquence of inkwells.
The genie of feeling awakens with the tongue of a poet, moving
From the souls that embraced the prophecy of feeling from the genes of poetry, their market ripened and the branches of their emotions flourished, so imagination blossomed and spread over the shadows of humanity, yielding words as the essence of hearts throbbing with love.
The flame of feeling burned her, so the spring of poetry sprang forth for her to drink from it a watering that nourishes the feeling of love and breathes around the hearts the clay of poetry so that the body of comfort may rise with their bright smiles and they may dance on the fading of alienation and the dissolution of the pain that knelt for a time before the birth of this newborn, whose genes flowed with all pleasure from my soul aged with love.