The birth of poetry,
Was no birth at all
Just a discovery
It was discovered with
The birth of a poet
A child whose words ran
Together, as one, in song
Or in thought

Maybe I was that first person
Maybe I discovered poetry
Maybe I am poetry, reborn
Again and again, each
Person I touch, helping me
Along my journey

The best poet by definition
Was not the best poet
By choice
The best at stringing words, like beads
Is not the best at waving them
Like a flag in the breeze
His mouth did not move
As the current in the ocean

Perhaps the best poet
Will come after my time
Perhaps I will be that person
Perhaps not
Perhaps this poet is not the best by
Definition, but the worst by choice

He is not the best at schemes
With rhyme
But his colorful and
Astounding language
Frightens a king into hiding
While his troops are powerless
To fight this anonymous battle
As the author shields his
Name from hatred


In turn, however, he will
Be known as the best in his time
Simply, the future is a gaping hole
Waiting to suck poets onward
Where they will hide for the next
Hundred years
While the world forgets that poetry ever existed
Until the day that the queen of love
Yearns too much for her language
To let it burn without poetry
That she frees the poetic souls
And they fill the sky once more

Maybe that gaping hole has already passed
Perhaps I am the generation, saving
The world
One word at a time
Perhaps