What A Tear Poem by Rowan Welch

What a tear that hath bedazzled my poor face; upon it smiling-
Not of happiness, but dazzled by the temptress known as wonder;
Ever filing awe and courteous I plunder into sleep not known by many-
Though eyes wide open, plainly see do I the holy matrimony-
Ever flowing past the wind and objects knowing not what lives-
Before them, for I now must check my pulse and kindly address my silky skin.
Skin with bumps laid by a bird, and kindling silk which utters word-
That I now speak, or you now read for any reason but to sow-
The seed that carried many before you, long against the summer shore.
Likely story do we wonder where the wonder comes from wondering-
Whether we can wonder longer or if the line exists so deep-
Within the skin which, aforementioned, calms the spirit as it sores-
Far past the boundaries that we make for children who know not the lore..
For lore in store must nevermore be lost through time, an endless floor-
Slipped off by old sops endlessly counting their star’s core lore more.