by AWillowsDream

Created on: November 08, 2009   Last Updated: November 21, 2011

Poet's Hands

Nonsensical these words that constant flow
As dewdrops from the morning sun
In whispers through the warming air

Words that from emotion spring
Before the well of infinite
Laughter
Love and forgiveness

Words of prophet or seer
Babble in endless speech and boundless thought
To help who?
For who would listen to such wickedness
Mere thought from spirit or God may flow

Goddess perhaps
For she is the warmth that I seek
In endless prayer for wisdom
And through me creates the answers
To our questions
Though few would hear

For few desire such hard sought after and won knowledge
To the path of pure enlightenment
From such places as poets hands
Or an artist's lonely ear

Lonely for others like ourselves
For this path is fruitful in its bounty
Yet endlessly desolate in its physical aloneness
Solitude and safety from that which be at times
Too hard for us to bear

Hear me
Touch me
Feel me
Not me my hand
Its words
Or pictures do flow forth

My lovely, creative vibration
For the more we create
The more there is to feel
So much more, then, to love
Even more, still, to behold
The more power and strength
to raise the vibration of ourselves
And endless, mindful love
Human touch so longed for
Though written more than felt
Reach out for the poet's hand
The true words of wisdom
The honest thoughts of emotion
Flow from this

So sensitive our touch
Our feelings
For who but ourselves
Have the courage or the strength
For the full force
The entirety of one complete emotion

So, then, multiply this
Times that of the infinite
For that is how it feels
To shed the poets tears
This is how it sounds to hear the melodious laughter
Of this prophet or this seer
For emotions such as humour are so much more
When put forth again
From the inside to the out

Life is intensified
It becomes the endless study
Categorizing, feeling, and writing
For inside the poets hands
Rests the tools for the unveiling of our own insides
The answers to our questions
The key to the universe simply lies inside
And though many seek it
Again, few can bear its gift

When you find that your own happiness
All your answers were with you all along
It's something hard to outwardly alone bear
The thin, protective veil be gone
The light of Truth can shine too bright alone
and so we reach out
always we reach out

Blessed ye who have the gift
The sensitive gift
Of poets'
Artists' hands
For All do

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