We are flying through eternity. Endlessly we stay beneath all those things, They tell us we should have been. Aimless we choke upon our own words. Seeking guidance in an empty place; we have never been heard.
Our voices have never truly shouted out loud. We are the poets in need, lost faces in the crowd. A million strangers never meet to discuss, What could be done to give a voice to us.
All travelling alone, along similar tracks. We are united by words, but we never tell each other what we have. With all the knowledge in our world of poetry, We are all left confused by the possibilities.
No map to view; no set in stone. No directions to a place we can communicate; A poet’s home, Is a place we need, To speak at ease… A place we can all feel safe.