thoughtsgather

A life on this land ceases to exist

And this soul swims in the sea of the eternal

The unknown departed provided me with a gift

This must be a true fact, for I have no other explanation from where these words come

One day, I knew not what poetry was.

The next day words flowed endlessly from a vast unknown.

I think not of their structure or sense

From some divine place they arrive, and they beckon action and they require love

And this gift has not been given to me freely, as I have no right or possibility to decline

The responsibility large

I will hold this gift in delicate yet fierce repose

I will welcome the words and images as if they were another’s. I will watch over them with care

I know not whom to thank

And so I simply look upwards with acknowledgment and respect

Me. Me. I am a poet.

This evolution was more of a revolution

Suddenly, words began to converge in my being, as if sent from the divine

Images flashed, begging to be immortalized

The waves in the pit of being told me this dis-ease would only ease with words

Out of my thoughts in some convergent fashion

Or in the chaos of the swirling of sights and of sounds

As the pen is put to paper

The waves diminish and panic subsides

The words transform

And I no longer find fear in that label, in that word. Poet