The Poets Agenda

To hang stars one by one
Sieving rust into glitter
To build dreams from ashes
To look for patterns in brocade and well worn paths of memory
cutting through forests and fields and
swimming through streams of tomorrows
and navigating minefields of detached yesterdays
Through snow and storms
Until one day

I remember everything,
Whispers the sea
And the poet asks,
Tell me
Tell me
When time began
Tell me
Why that smile is impossible to forget

Tell me how to start over
Tell me
Everything

Listening
The sea
And the moon
And the stars
And the lark
And the still small voice

To rage
To love
To hope
To dream
To feel
To defend

To remember
When forgetting would make all the pieces fit
Because they should know
the pieces never really fit

6 thoughts on “The Poets Agenda

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