Poet

The task of the poet is to write; to find that brief moment of silence and write. We never know where the words take us and for what reason the sequence of words arrive on the paper, but there it is... the birth of a poem. A poem in which the meaning doesn't become relevant until years later. Happy day everyone!

If ever there was, I am
No longer attached
Never perfect
No longer with burdened
Shoulders that I
Rise to the surface
Beaming with light
Blasting with sound
Refractory and detached.
To whom I belong:
I say to that Light,
To that great Spirit of Star
Luminescent in the night
That lulls me
Endows me with love
Enormous affection--
The love of Christ,
I say, irreplaceable.

-mr gahon 12/12/11

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s