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Here I am, the obliging poet, pouring words like honey all over your pages. Come now, you with the hungry hot iris, and taste that sweet nectar on your lips. Let these words melt all over themselves on your tongue with an orgy of adjective, limber verbiage, and unrestrained, wildly writhing imagination.

I do not offer you quaint rhymes and weightless platitudes of prose. No adroitly spoken lies couched in prettily spoken invitations. I do not pander with my pen to the desires of shallow swimmers who wish to splash in the waves on the edges of that vast ocean of knowledge. I invite you to jump, to plunge, to drown in depths so black the daylight has become a memory and the weight of all your knowing is still accumulating above you, even as you sink further.

Be enlightened, be consumed, be overwhelmed by the sheer size and scope of all those things you do not know and cannot understand. Glorify in your exquisite ignorance, your infantile wonder, at the magnitude of this great big universe and how small you are inside of it. Marvel at the knowledge that although the brief wisp of your life is but a speck upon a microscopic atom in the whole of existence, this life is precious, holy, and unique. Your soul is the tenuous, delicate quivering of a butterfly, in all it’s magnificent beauty, and a mere flutter of your wing could create a hurricane on the shores of another’s heart.


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