All the words have been spoken
Limits have been broken
Epiphanies have been squandered
Worthy thoughts have wandered
Poets go unheeded
Fears remain firmly seated
Truth is taken for granted
Previous beliefs supplanted
How can I stroke your wonder?
In the well of conscience pull you under?
Can I map the lovely form of you?
Shape your mind as sculptors do?
Like a writer’s graffiti on your skin
Should I paint the feeling deep within?
Lovely dancing metaphors
The crooking finger of open doors
Inviting you to slip your thoughts inside
Take the stallions of expectation for a wild ride
Un-reigned, unfettered, upon a page
Truth is dancing a notebook stage
Crooning softly the stanza wet with ink
Tiny dreams each time you blink
Eyes hungrily dine on this feast of life
Succulent sweets where love is rife
Do you know the way through descending lines?
Traverse the maze of a thoughtful mind?
Will finally we meet on the other side?
With no falsity left to hide?
Bare ourselves as pages do?
Remember how to feel new?
I have only my pen to illustrate me
With a sightless eye, do you see?