cannot be earned. cannot be bought
cannot be grown upon a tree
this is what your work taught me...

to be a butterfly of tin
tough. resistant to the pin
to be a rhino made of paper
traversing planes just like a vapor
to be a tigress of silk
giving young pure mother's milk
to be a light. to ne'er expire
to be a flower made of fire

to express my feelings
reveal my hopes
find the humor
in my slumps
to find my weakness
feel the pain
find relief in its refrain
to smile and not feel guilt
gilt the flower... it will wilt!

to say what I mean
mean what I say
leave duplicity today!

to flow with ease
to turn a word
however banal
or absurd

absurdity is apt array
for the world of today!

to listen on the written page
to be a child
to learn

to rage!

this is what your work has taught
I may not learn it as I ought
but it always brings on thought
so know your struggle's not for naught
you're a flame that's burning hot!
in amber each penstroke is caught
I will, each war, have fully fought
I won't be fearful
never fraught...

this your poetry has taught!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/5/2015