An Ode to a Poet
If I move from this place then the rhyme will be lost
like the dreams when you move from the bed. All the lessons
we’ve learned between slumber and light are the truths,
never making the pages of knowing.
All we have are these caves living deep in our minds
Where potholes are many and where entities speak, on their own
in the dark. Here the hand has to steer very close to the soul
or it writes on regardless ever emptying out.
All these dreams, they’re for us to pass on when we die
so that others can read as they journey thereafter. Your words
lit up cities where I chose to roam. A much needed distraction,
one I’ve treasured so long.
Your mind softened the pain when I got stuck
When these caves heard my cries all alone in the dark
You lit paths for me there when the lights went out and you reached for
my hand when the rains came down
So while you are a poet who is still undead
and the clocks on the walls tick around my longing
Show me your pages that remain unread and bring light to these caves
where my soul is crawling.....