Have you ever
stumbled upon a word
and found substance beneath its surface?
Did you harness it, and bend it,
to fit your will and purpose?
Did you notice
it was raw, powerful,
and had magic in its utterance?
Did you bathe in its purity,
or marvel at its relevance?
Were you regal
in the fashioning,
and precise in its placement?
Did you bind it to a memory,
or to a noble experiment?
Perhaps
you altered its substance,
with the addition of a syllable.
Perhaps
you pimped its assonance,
and dressed it for the carnival.
Perhaps
you extracted it,
then replaced it altogether;
and justified the action with:
"Now, that rhymes so much better!"
Did your creation bleed
when you ripped its soul apart?
Do crimson drops stain the verse
where once there was a heart?
Was Rhyme an innocent scalpel;
perhaps the sinister culprit?
Or was it simply the minstrel
that made the poem perfect?