I dip my toes into the stream of words
caught on woes of the Raven with Edgar Allen Poe
The raven I rave ominously taps as Edgar naps
and the books lay open across his lap where
he sought the lore that brings him respite from Lenore.
A toe caught in the letter of O, now a ring, that brings
us reminiscence of the essence of things like words that ring true
and carry us downstream to express our journey; beyond what hurts.
Together, the letters wave into words and the rare rise up in verse
some in colors of sonnets and ghazals, some terse like haiku
echo the stanzas of the journey of life of someone like you
in the primordial sound of the formation of galaxies, in the deepest mystery
you hear the music of the murmuring stream who reads us poetry aloud.
Who, reads your poetry aloud? The scintillating mystery of you —
how particles vibrated to form the poetry of you .
