Let The Poet Be Poem by Ofero Basbas

let the poet be, for he has gone the way of dreams
in that space and time where he sometimes lives
there is nothing there, or everything there
empty, full, empty, fool, empty.
let the poet be, he has ran out of bones to build
his palaces with, or perhaps he has buried himself
there, or find it too much trouble anyway.

let the lover be, he is quiet now though not
yet dead; in limbo, though there i think he has found
what true love is, what hidden meanings the poet
told him of; but he is away, for now, let him be.
quiet, burning, cold, searing. the lover leaves
no doubt who he is but yet he cannot be seen;
naked, the lover always wears the mantle of king.

let the goddess be. in the quiet of night, she sleeps
but does she really? if you touch her hand, she disappears
she melts and becomes a phantom, a phantom
that sings in your head and whisper tales and poems
but let them be. my head is full of buzzing horns
and broken lullabies, interrupted just as the baby squeals
my head is swimming in pools of dark ink, let me be.

oh, let me be. i will be singing songs again, soon.
stay around, we’ll take a trip around the carousel.
’round the carousel. one more time, in the carousel.
until then, let me be.