gliding

gliding

Monday, February 17, 2014

Poets


poets are forever listening
for luminous things
seeing the blue bird sing
touching the taste of autumn
sensing what mood the moon is in
poets were once flowers
knowing how it feels
to dance with the wind
embrace the rain
and feel the pain
of carless trampling
poets see a thing of beauty
and conclude
all begins and ends in mystery
in a crystal vase run dry
poets ask why
to get no answer
it doesn’t matter
they go deeper
where no questions exist
only unknown certainties

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