Sensing

Sensing

I have sensed the poetic

Yet I have yet to engage it

That delight seems to flit around in great whimsy and flight

When I try to approach it with determination and might

It surely just whisps away

Or possibly I might squash it like an annoying ant

Under the padding of my thumb

I cannot enter the world of numb

I simply, simply cannot

I must feel the joy along with the pain

I must imbibe the sunshine along with the rain

Because both are essentially life-giving

I’d rather hurt in the land of the living

Than be eternally numb in the realms of the dead

I touch the fear, I feel the dread

Yet this fire within me will consume it

I will not take it for granted, nor will I assume it

To be ever present, though it always is

I rather yield to the waxing flames

I listen for the lightning names

To sound off in the dark distances

In dark divorce, in stark romances

There is ever still the light, the heat

The love that sits on supremacy’s seat

It is love that will aways guide me

I am sensing the poetic