Poem: Read This Poem but You Have to Write It First
Read this poem
To make your dreams come true,
But you have to write it first
And ride off into a
Yellow dusty sunset
Beyond the pomegranate growth.
You’ll meet two aged lovers
Crystallized, immortal in time.
When you sneak, shadow draped,
To steal a bite of dripping peach
You must remember how to feel.
For sticky mars the paper,
And dirty mars the goal.
Walking backwards now
Among the letters traced
In each forgotten soul
Invoke the wild Muse,
The battle Muse,
Poetry of the gods
That the breath may prize you,
That the breath will heal you,
That the punctures of the pens
Will reveal the color of your eyes,
The contours of your voice,
The dimensions of your life,
And who you’ll come to be.
Pray then to the gods of poetry.
Read this poem to open doorways,
But you have to write it first
And feel it like a drop into
The time before your birth,
Like agony and ecstasy were
The music of the maze,
Like the thread was luminescent
Tracing pathways into skin,
That each swirling finger print
Cast an invitation
To the spaces in between,
Each vital heartbeat,
The whispers of the trees.
Each tempered word reveals
The mystery of form
Who the lovers really were
And who they wish to be.
Enfold them then in ink that
The wisdom of the sages
Reveals the heroic feats of
Fore-begotten ages.
Read this poem to free them,
But you have to write it first.
