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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

This Millennium

People have abandoned poetry.
They wear hats in the sun.
They no longer look inside themselves
and cower in doubt.
Beginning this millennium
we are sure of ourselves,
and turn deaf ears to the sound
in our souls.

Dependent on the likes of me
poetry has hard going.
I drive people away with my open arms.
My heart is on public display.
I say good morning to cats and dogs,
kiss flowers,
regard the sky with awe,
and try to keep my wonder under wraps.
Everyone seems content
to take miracles for granted.

I pretend to be a tough guy,
and spit in the street,
look indifferently on children,
and yawn in the face of angels.
It is all a charade,
to live with the deaf,
to take everything for granted,
no day treasured above another,
no mystery confronted
but we have a crowbar to pry it open.

No one knows what I leave behind,
under a bench,
slipped in a book,
tucked in a letter,
said softly only to the closest ear.
Everything, my friend, is a miracle.
Everything is wondrously beautiful.
Everything should be infinitely cherished.
Everything is a poem,
its words beg to be spoken and sung!

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