My son, if the moon
could talk to the sun, what do
you think she would say?
~
“You light up my life,
give me hope to carry on,
and you fill my nights with song.”
My son, if the moon
could talk to the sun, what do
you think she would say?
~
“You light up my life,
give me hope to carry on,
and you fill my nights with song.”
What draws a poet
to look both at and beyond
the ordinary?
~
Longing deep enough
to strip away the surface;
endless search for hidden truth.
At what cost, writing?
And at what price is meaning
when sacrificed to profit?
~
Writers profit by
finding meaning and pleasure
in the words that come their way.
Would you say meaning
is something found, created,
or simply not there?
~
As artifacts lie
buried beneath ancient dross,
meanings are oft obscured.
Where should we look for
answers when we’re not even
sure of the question?
~
Look for the answers
in all the old internal
spaces. Questions be damned!