The End of Chapters of Rhyming


 

When she transformed into a butterfly
There was no turning back
Eun Ji, we sail on point into some unknown

No thanks or apologies can make it right
There is no apology for our place on Earth
And no gratitude strong enough to repay these debts

If I feel as if the top of my head
Where being blown by the sun
I would give up poetry and become distilled
Into something the centuries crave
And I once possessed, but it would not be me

Nothing is mine, that I have done
The human heart knows no boundaries
Identity and separation, are but convenient devices

Poetry is the oldest lie, so when we leave her
Dangling, we make a personal promise
To be truthful, to be realistic

And emotion has found itself out
And no longer finds words, we are set free
If to be a poet is not a profession, but a condition
Then the former poet can go on to other things
Bringing the craft of not understanding

Bringing the dreamer to the ends of time
Where the universe conspires in secrecy
If in the end you tried and cared
Let that be enough to start your new life.

Verse Crafter


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Verse Crafter

So Eun Ji, if every verse is a child of love
Shall we keep on writing for a lifetime
These destitute hours of waiting
Doing what we love, like firstlings

Abandoning tradition and expectation
To become a writer, simple, blessed
With the expectation of the gulfs
Between our lives and those of common folk

Left by the road asleep, we memorize alphabets
In our instinct for narrative
We keep notes on the feelings
Who was our liege, who were the thieves?

Who ruined us young, that we might outgrow
Personality, ideas of greed and competition
Maybe I will be left alone here, waiting
Forever in the study of verse, that has

Only children of the mind to show
And a short list of failed relationship.