The eyes of a poet,
Often look inward,
Then outward in complexity
Of positive and negative confusion
In poetic diverse shades of vision,
Where the fission and friction
Sets to motion word compositions
Among divergent depositions
Weathering time's hourglass illusion.
We are the negativity
Of our mirrored souls shadows
Traversing time's haunted graven words
In reflections shattered
On a wilted rose page of Uni-Verse.
“To be” is that not the question?
Do we not bear, the heartbeat’s verse
Deep inside the very core of one’s soul?
The seed of germination of a Uni-Verse
Spreading enlightenment might upon wings,
Where the cerebral meets the celestial
Hemispheres of an outer expansive universe.
“To Be” free is that not the right?
That bares Free Verse reign down on birthrights
Wail that sails breezes
In questioning Free Speech.
For is not Truth, the ultimate salvation,
That represents a society’s foundation?
That we are Constitution founded
Upon those concrete driven words
With sword points of factual statements.
“To Be” is it not a pressed rose memory?
Where we kneel and pray postmortem
That life’s existence was not a shallow grave
Of procrastinated promises, so hollow cast
Inside would, could, and should have been’s.
But where the spring bubbled in dong things
With a creative bounce radiance of endless energy,
Where minds are engaged in full mental wing dimensions
Sharing a divine dynamic spectrum of self purpose
That shared compassion with other pressed roses,
Within the Phoenix of America.
David Lester Young 06/07/10