A poem is but a skeleton
waiting
for mind
and
imagination
to fill the open

spaces

between the ribs

mind
and
imagination
to flesh it out

mind
and
imagination
to make it whole

for one,
full
and
sated,
it may dance
and
delight
in abundance

while another sees
embers
glowing
through
the spaces
warm
and
peaceful
yet
still
mysterious

for another
more questions
than
answers
are created
leading
down
a deep
path
of wandering
of wondering

seeking
the meaning
the light

through

the spaces
between
the bones