Find
There's not a story in your soul that you wish to spill?
Not an idea in your hand that you want to see spread?
You fancy yourself a Master of Words but they evade you
Like bruised hounds fleeing a man with a stick
Do not fear the blank page nor the words that sound like echoes
Write the poetry already written on your insides
What phrases traverse the length of your intestines?
What concepts lie printed on the pink of your brain
What words cling to your heartstrings and swing
With the beat of the blood carried away by your arteries?
Find the letters that form stitches that hold you together:
The mind to the body to the soul - Find:
That it is poetry that extracts the essence of sentiment
And makes audible the voices in your head - Find:
That it is to poetry you will turn when you can't think of what to say
To poetry you will turn when your voice is taken away
It will release you, tease you, chase you, face you
Take you by the hand, turn you - Make you face yourself
And there, you will find you cannot help but write poetry
For poetry is you
Copyright © Viola .x | Year Posted 2012
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