Everything is poetry.
\nIt is where our minds go.
\nTo tide pools of boiling light,
\nstray stars,
\nurchins of white stone.
\nIn the cage of emptiness
\nare words for our souls,
\nwaiting for voices.
\nMixing paint in our eyes.
\nRhythming for the waves
\nof oceans,
\npassages off the edge
\nof forever.
\nThe genesis of shadows.
\nThe enfolding of summer
\nin its wine.
\nThe passion\u00e1to of love.
\nThe meteor, burning
\nwith the flame of stars
\nin its tale.<\/p>\n
Throw your words to the wind
\nand fall like dust to a painted
\ndesert.
\nGive them to a stranger,
\nnever to pass as a stranger again.
\nAnd of life,
\nten lives for every life
\nburned to ash,
\nand no one lost
\nwithout a rose
\npressed between leaves
\nof a life\u2019s diary remembering.
\nSo it is for everyone
\nlooking for an horizon,
\na poem inside their heart.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Everything is poetry. It is where our minds go. To tide pools of boiling light, stray stars, urchins of white stone. In the cage of…<\/p>\n