The Dream of A Poet

I desire new landscapes
to mix new combinations of words
to speak languages I don’t know
a little like tongues, maybe
but defining life
lung breathing and sighing
an assault to my senses
bleeding out
beauty
I will play with words
until I die
and maybe someday they will serve me
the right way
but first
they will bow before the world
and kiss humanities feet
and dusty volumes of these archaic verses
will be moved into the light
and lovers and laborers will slow down
and freeze
breaking off limbs
and finally rebuild
our minds will drain
and our hands will spring alive
to do all the good
that only been thought
up until now
and beyond our fleeting
scientific explanations
there will be depth
and a great passion
for the inexpressible
the undefinable will reign
over us with grace