Life Is a Doorway, and Not a Destination
A poet cannot be frugal,
miserly with his thoughts
and feeling; but, indeed,
a rabid spendthrift, where
there are matters of the
heart – a radiating sun
when his soul uncovered...
though we are beings of
vast contrast, Light when
Write, painfully dark when
venturing into silent
shadows – those aching
lulls when muted – the
thunder when speaking
with God-like temperament,
pianissimos, fortified by
deep breaths of character
possessing blazing conviction –
a poet, atypical in his world
as the priest who bravely
ventures outside his scriptures,
having realized faith a doorway
and not a cloistered prison....
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