I've only imagined where I'd go were the skies to open up
Magical, and time to be metered
Only in metrical or musical
Timbre what bassoon might be heard when and if
Flutes bass drums human voices
Joined into that chorus of
Nature resounding unheard
On the distance in the forests
On sunrises in flowers
In the eyes of the forlorn
The starving bellies
Of the deserts
In that mass of culled voices
Written on papers buried
In libraries in educated
***** on leather desks in the
Remotest abscesses where the hurt cannot reach or on
Wool carpets decorated
Florals instead of the marvels God
Sent created made us in
Oh I cry loud
I cry at top of my lungs ability
Wake me up
Cry cry
Sound out
Poets
Those with more than
My abilities.
The time is
Now.