I praise hidden thoughts that loop
again,
ideas amorphous and vague given shape,
spinning freely from a liberating pen,
that evolving step between man and
ape--
how is it, these lines sinuous and
ornate,
can amuse, anger, evoke love and hate?
Shooting like arrows as the mind
reloads,
things that calm, caress, hit and
explode--
a ticker in the mind, running all the
time,
scalding, harsh, smooth, sometimes
rhymed,
mercurial messengers under some
command--
obedient, insolent, issued from mouth
and hand
getting us closer to it—all the way?
Not quite.
Dispelling some darkness to light the
night.
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