She has come again

poetry comes to me again
like a voice holding my hands into the woods in which the future reveals itself
like a world of wonder that unveils a curtain
to a congregation of the hearts chanting to ease pains
what must i write? will i have an audience?
must i whisper to you poetry; what i saw ... what i can see?
must i keep silent and let the loudness of the chants overwhelm me?


poetry has come again
whilst i open my arms
to catch rainbows
by the river Styx
poetry: you have come again 
tell me what this is all about?

Did you not tell me
          when I was a child
That there will be so much love to share
In a world that will grow older, colder, with the cries
          of a hungry child left in a huge dumpster of Progress?
          of a young girl driven to the brink of madness by the elegance of the neon lights?
          of a grow up man crushed of his torso by the heavy blow of daily toil?
          of a woman in twilight years whose Love having flown leaving her wilting like a rose dried up
                                                                              ----like a raisin in the sun?

poetry: did you not tell me all these whispered into me those moments we we up on that tree?
did i not ask you to whisper to me what the ultimate answer is?
                               or did i not whisper that to you
                                                   before you become you --- o' poetry?

poetry: you told me that rocks would speak to me in my alone-ness
as they roll down the hill
            gathering moss
that i would catch rainbows
            with open arms as i wade through the river styx
bidding farewell to the one i love
             you told me these, poetry
                               all these
did we not agree that Life is a child of Death?

Poetry: my first love ... my last
have you not flowed into my veins
build castles in every cell of my body?
become each breath that i take
reproduce yourself in every breath i give back
                       into this Finiteness of the world outside of you and i poetry?
i shall bid the world goodnight as poetry and i dance in our dreams