L. J. Carber Poet Free verse

Satori

From where are born 
those little dreams 
made only of words? 
From the secret part 
of my myriad mind? 
Or is it someplace much,
much deeper, far beyond 
any form, beyond time, 
beyond even God?

I know not! 
For each comes 
like a solo songbird 
suddenly sitting
on the sill of an open window, 
singing its brief song 
just for you... 
whilst you try, 
try hard to recall it all 
and share it with a tiny, 
tiny slice of this vast, 
cold, and indifferent  world....

And if you can catch the song, 
(the song that is every dream) 
and seed it into a poem, 
then perhaps another 
may dream and dream and....

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Geoffrey Brewer February 15, 2020 at 9:05 AM Perhaps that which is revealed in these flashes of illumination will always be beyond description in words, although words may give a stirring of awareness or recall. Maybe that is what you say more poetically here. Very eloquently written, Len and, if I may say so, more concise that your usual creations. L. J. Carber February 16, 2020 at 10:05 AM Thank you, my friend!