As I sit and write I see,
An aging poet just like me,
Aligning words with artful skill,
Transcending life, diffusing will,
And as they write, a window clears,
Revealing more poetic peers,
Who they do watch, as I by chance,
Observe this whole eclectic dance,
A poem within a poem true,
Within a poem just for you,
Three layers of a hopeful plea,
Transforming how the world doth see,
And as we write of lives and loves,
And mental illness with its shoves,
We question what has brought us here,
Where darkness formulates its fear,
And scatters through the breadth of time,
Anointing thoughts that do combine,
To tell a tale that spans the years,
And builds a waterfall of tears,
That drenches decades as they climb,
And fashions rhythms within rhyme,
Ashore it all seems very clear,
These ships were made for us to steer,
Into the night, beyond the dark,
Where nightingales release a hark,
That summons muses far and wide,
And whisks them to the other side,
Where centuries of prose elude,
To change outdated attitude,
On love and life and mental ills,
We still depend on simple thrills,
And as I sit and write I see,
Creative poets just like me,
A hundred years may drift by fast,
But words were always meant to last.
© The Complicated Bunny – 14 May 2023
The Complicated Bunny 