My dear poet.
\nEvery day you build a house
\nfor me. A poem
\nwhich is your soul,
\na place in the zenith of the sky.
\nA lucent opening of your heart
\nto walls fashioned from
\nthe fragments of your life.
\nSo similar the human condition.
\nThe halls, rooms, windows
\nthat hold our destinies
\nof grief and love.
\nOur remarkable atoms
\nof beauty and tenderness.<\/p>\n
A longing here,
\na word said there,
\nwheels and wind,
\nlullabies of mother and sister,
\nthe black petal little brother,
\nthe altering fates of war,
\nthe catastrophe of ends.
\nEach poem finds its place.
\nOh yes! I say,
\nseeing how and where that
\nhouse is built,
\nanother burned, or blown away.
\nHuman destiny that rises
\nfrom the earth of home,
\namid love and murder,
\nand the rose that rises
\nfrom the ashes.
\nSwans, the color of a cloud.<\/p>\n
You, as time begets,
\ncomposing your life
\nso brothers and sisters
\nlike yourself,
\ncan see themselves described,
\nand put into a shelter
\nof arches, ceilings open
\nto the rain,
\nclosets of coats and paper,
\nwhich hold thoughts
\ngiven to me and others.
\nA haven,
\na hand to hold,
\na place to find refuge in,
\nand myself find an apple
\nfallen to the ground.
\nChildhood so in league,
\nand age profound with seasons
\nput in a book of life\u2019s bouquets.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My dear poet. Every day you build a house for me. A poem which is your soul, a place in the zenith of the sky.…<\/p>\n