if poetry was blood, then i shall bleed a sea!
i shall spurt, nay, fount! a flowing river
that shall rival Nile at Moses’ day,
and neither shall i faint at lifeblood’s loss,
for what i gush forthwith
is hundredfold replaced!
if poetry was blood, then i am poem!
for what courses through my veins
is nothing less than pure intelligence,
rhymes, wit, rhetoric, and the rhythm of the ages!
its source unseen by eyes unspiritual,
my umbilicus reaches celestial spheres,
and with each recital i lose not, but gain,
for with every poem i spill to water fellow-spirits,
lo, i am nurtured too!
if poetry was blood, then i shall red the universe!
i shall not waste a single drop
on dross, on things unworthy
of celestial glory…
and millions of millions of stars someday
shall sing the songs
colored by the cadence of my rhymes!
