I slept on the bed
of a poet, Gibran
and there fell a poem
into my head
like a song…

“One day you will ask me
which is more important?
My life or yours?
I will say mine
and you will walk away
not knowing
that you are my life.”

I slept on the bed
of a poet, Gibran
and my dreams were filled
in my heart was a song
a longing so sweet
a desire too strong
till the museum guard came
and moved me along

deep set eyes of mystery
you give a solution to this misery
in a sad world of disenchantment
i see no end in disappointments

fair-faced being of the sand
so straight in time you stand
of principles so thorough and deep
you fight for all creatures that weep

poet of kings
you create a thousand rings
around my saddened heart
i only live by what you impart

i see tomorrow in your eyes
that never knew the burden of lies
teach me the way to fly
and all the things that answer why

and as i read your words of rhyme
i hear the bells that chime
to herald the coming of an age
to release a bird in a cage

shall i, to you, speak
and hear my voice so weak
so you may feel my hungry touch
that wanted you so much

or shall,i here, in any place stay
never to move or go away
absorbing colorless dreams
imbibing lifeless beams

if i had not known you, i will not be whole
a master of words, soul of my soul
i beg to meet you in a place
that defy all measures of time and space