Passenger of poetic arcs

66

Passenger of poetic arcs

I am not an original creator
I never loved poetry
As a young person
Nature taught me alchemy
Through a speech impediment

My brain existed around
A deformity, giving me
The possibility of linguistic adoration
A phenomena of thirst
That was never quenched in words

Only the dream of embroidered
Feelings that were vision
From another world
There was no essential musicality
No particular evolution of healing

I didn’t explore complex ideas
Or traverse steppes of philosophy
But I yearned for something
And words emerged
To conjure a caress in silence

For a little saving bath
In the horizontal language of English
And the pauses before mandarin
I felt a cruel hunger for experience
The inner experience of waiting

At the harbour of the future
For a temptation to dream
And an anticipation for tomorrow
That consumed and whitewashed
All of who I once was until

My flesh knew the golden dazzle
Of lines, pages, cursive lyrics
Slim innocent agile limbs of syllables
Terrific married to grief longing
Encapsulated as a passenger in a poem.

7 thoughts on “Passenger of poetic arcs

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