Life, our World,
The Universe,
In written form,
For it is so full of
Mystery,
So full of dissonant
Theory and History
That Truth
Somehow lies hidden,
Confused and bedridden,
Known, for sure
By none…
Information,
Hidden by deep secrets
Since this World was formed,
And long ago, begun,
Its mysterious secret life
Under the Star of Light,
Which is, the Sun.
May it be in our Subconscious,Or on our silent armoire, racks.
Says, She,There is something to that,Most lyric poetry reflects deep feelings,And in Life there’s always more painThan emancipating jubilee,Poetry cannot,Should not, ever hide reality.
The poet feelsA melody,The music that is in the air,That must become poetry fair.The Dreamer’s song,Near by the sea,Blue sailing movement,Sets it free,A feeling that you don’t forget,Like young first love, you don’t regretThe poet lives only for that,It’s in the blood yet so abstract.A poem is a poet’s song,Fighting for beauty,Right not wrong,All love…
No today and no tomorrow,Nada,No memories to speak of,Just numbness and gray rain,Nothing to lose,And Nothing to gain.
In Poetry they findThey’re very flowLike the rivers,To the Sea must goSo poetry is writtenFree,And knows, it mustSpeak independently,To the heartBut come directlyFrom the soul,That shines withInner Love,For all that livesAnd all above,In undiscovered skiesThat give the UniverseSuch a mysterious splendor,As hearts and mindsTravel togetherIn search ofTotal Harmony,Forever.
Don’t you know?That is precisely,What our Souls are made of.
