Vain it would be to complain so silent I remained
I can’t find the time he rummaged through my mind
And untwined the thoughts I thought I had confined.
I feared what truth of me he begot
I could have fought him to inquire what he sought
But my subconscious would not let me.
My faculties were at his mercy.
No sooner had I reckoned he’d gathered contents of my head and fled,
Did I detect where his journey led.
Defensive instincts kicked in to restrict him from my core
My emotions were mine to secure but before I could declare war
He shot my guard down by the whisperings of the words he said.
My heart thumped and pumped fusions of red
Then into it he injected, sucked
And out reared what sensations my blood shed.
Naked I stood; my essentials bare
Suddenly I became a slave to his lair.
He was a Poet.
A stranger who spoke to me with the familiarity of a childhood friend
His words were a manifestation of myself even I could not comprehend
He drove me out of my mind,
Crazy with his phrases that coerced me to places sanity never let me attend.
He was a Poet.
Woven with a surgeon’s precision and confidence of an actor
Articulate, something like a professor or a pastor behind a pulpit
Fervently preaching to culprits of sin that all souls may be saved without a forfeit.
He was comforting like home I remember
Enticing like the seduction of a lover.
He fertilized ink with candor
The emergence of wisdom became inevitable.
He was more than just a being.
He was…is a Part of Every Thing (P.O.E.T.)
