it’s a mystery, indeed, what this poetry does to us
“A poem is less a thing than any other work of art”
it’s more of a deep dark secret,
a feeling that has no name
but we still reach out
towards this expression
an effort to find the formless
to color in the emptiness
building a bridge from the known,
to the unknown
“where an emotion has found its thought
and thoughts have found the words”
language is more alive and at the
same time no longer language
The mystery releases itself,
secretes itself slowly
most times virally
into the human mind
And in the end, the poem is not a thing we see-
it is, rather, a light by which we feel,
the warmth of life…
