UNFOLDED
poet-life achieved
An interior soul
I inhabit.
Returning to its safety
Is how I make it through the
Day, some days.
The hum of solitude my welcome
Back when retreat from creations
Unremarkable are unbearable to
Own, their makings prosaic attempts
At affect;
A high ideal off target,
A hard reality weakly examined.
Profoundly equipped, my interior soul
Allows me to stay while I
Bandage my ego,
Let the sting fade, then
Refuses my company
On grounds that
Interior living is wordless, soundless,
Not the place for me to often return
If word canvasses are what I desire
To paint in verse with meaningful mention
That which inspires and stirs.
I venture there less,
The verbal-free place,
Now living, creating
On the outside where
Noise of the world,
Noise of emotion
Noise of the coming and going and
Staying of love enthuses,
Rouses my expression, canceling
Tendencies to lower myself into
The unremarkable chasm
Where before I so neatly
Folded myself into its crevices.
