We all have the same poet in us.
\nIt struggles in our hair, entangled.
\nAdores uncovered lips.
\nLashes and howls
\nin the silent conversation of our hearts.
\nIt hears inaudibles,
\nhugs the invisible,
\nrattles chains and leaves marks.
\nIt has the same cove
\nin every pair of eyes,
\nlunatics to saints.<\/p>\n
It excuses reason with millennia.
\nIt has Medusa’s face
\ncovering the shy and beautiful.
\nIt mocks fools who call it craft,
\nand wanders beaches frail and singing.
\nIt is our universal soul, our child,
\nmade lame by rough play,
\nsad from the wounds of rocks
\nbrave by an indomitable mother
\nthat watches over us.
\nAnd weeps, when we go away,
\nnever hearing the wind again.<\/p>\n
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