Saturday, November 28, 2015

Soon left to the page

Soon left to the page                                                                               

A poem indecipherable, a chore to read
though chock-full of evocative images

ever on the brink of making sense,
hints of eloquence shot randomly through.

If the reader has little faith – the poet
viewed as foolish, inexpert, unduly obscure

with nothing important to convey –
the poem is soon left to the page

a thick, tiresome, insoluble mystery.  
If, however, the reader somehow gets a whiff,

is moved to trust, delves deeper,
takes the random eloquence

as further hint and promise of a hidden treasure,
sensing the passion with which the author

originally took up the pen
then the poem may also be taken up,

endured, persevered – solved and resolved,
experienced, cherished and incorporated

to the ultimate triumph of poet and reader,
one step further towards the two becoming One.

O child of God, the poet is distinguishable by how
he says what everyone already knows. 

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