i found an ancient tome today,
of far more ancient poetry.
the book of poems, itself,
was twice as old as i will live to be.
...
inspiration
soft fragrance upon gentle breeze
transient - a vagrant as if,
passing through.
...
he's smug, opinionated and controlling
manipulative, self-absorbed and vain.
a know-it-all know-nothing
while extolling
...
i'm better off a myth to them;
misunderstood, unknown.
a reference point or allegory,
a story that they've grown
...
o beautiful bees, my sisters
with your delicate faerie wings
and tiny fingers, but for your sting
you know i'd hold you in my hands
...
a rose should have thorns!
as a cat should have claws.
the rarest things all follow
similar laws...
...
wind whispers - rustling leaves
regardless of ears to hear;
fragrance lingers on the breeze
...
he's touched me deeper than my body,
deeper than my thoughts,
much more than lust or satiation,
more than trust. for like as not,
...
my god, my lover is, my self;
my heart, it's highest thought, my soul;
the very air, my only breath,
my god in truth is all of this.
...
a butterfly won't linger til it's wings
are torn and tattered,
as if only one thing mattered:
it's own being.
...