A drunk without a drink
A river with no beginning
A street with no cars or pedestrians
A bar with no patrons
A mountain with no peak
A bustling city with no noise
A fiend without a drug
A valley with no bottom
A beggar with no cardboard sign

I am a -

I'm no saint
I cannot capture it
Like a photo
I cannot describe it
Like a novel
I cannot draw it
Because I cannot paint

Ev'ryone loves the comely words,
aches f'r the disconsolate ones,
Prayeth f'r the gentle,
And taketh the jarring.

Relateth to what thee shall,
Taketh to aught,
F'r coequal if the syllables art simple and plain,
Thy spirit shall alloweth the tongue,
Residence 'long with the emotions,
The thoughts and the instincts.

Thee wand'r in the words,
To seeketh harmony,
Concord in relation,
Familiarity in thy plight.

The expl'ration of if I,
Can findeth aught of this,
In mine own writing,
Remains to beest concluded.