Considered by me only
after countless casualties
result of internal battle

Surrender
to this moment
to what is
within and before me
not judging right or wrong


Receive what Is.

Then

Make
a
Choice

Sun shines now through fog
misconceptions burn away
thanks to expression

In the mind of a poet deep secrets lie dormant, waiting to be revealed
deep in the crevices of the primordial subconscious lie answers to
unasked questions, wordless thoughts, unspoken desires
The poet pours forth a veritable fountain of verbose interludes
choosing each word carefully to project the perfect mood
as a painter paints in hues and shades, the poet paints in words
in verbs and nouns portraying visions of thoughts and feelings
creating a work of art ... a picture can paint a thousand words
But in the mind of a poet  a word can paint a thousand pictures
to choose just the right word to portray just the right emotion
to convey just the right thought - this is the art of the poet
And in the mind of a poet, every word is integral to the whole
every single word is seen as necessary to express the perfect thought
the perfect meaning, the perfect expression of mind and soul
In the mind of the poet, the creator is the creation creating the creator
the poet becomes as a god, creating from darkness and void
Writing into existence with sentences new creations, bringing new life
expressing new visions, new revelations...
In the beginning was the word
And the Word was in the Mind of a Poet.