Day 57: The air that forms around a poem

Is there benefit to writing

A poem a day?

When the wisdom I learn

Is left


And unshared?

Even when I write those words

A child



Shout loudly and call me back

From the place where words are formed

And once again

Lessons from the multiworlds

Leave me

They do not even leave a trace

And I am left


With words on the page

That do not even remotely


That which I hear from the hawthorns

Or the ruined mill

They instead

Take a form

Which I am meant to honour anyway

Yet the true message:


I have taken journeys

Deep into my psyche

And I bring back




But I leave them

Somewhere close to dreams

In the air that forms around a poem

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