'Tis Art

'Tis art that gives words breath
'Tis the art should be revered and upheld
The words enchanting and rare, only ours to dispense, not keep
Tributaries only of the great deep
Words are given freely, so freely they should flow


'Tis the flow, is the art, not the penman's will
Genius robes few, for few know her layered scent of seven
Brilliance, few bask in, for they know not her wet of thigh
Discernment nil, for no man hears, the call beyond the mind slow of wit of shallow
For there is nothing of value there to be heard that heals


Words burn fire, fire changes time
Words birth love, love will softens the rough edges of time
Words announce and cornet the morrow, fore she's born
They burn in worth within us, or they do not
Few have good ones, fewer still of worth



'Tis in the heart where wisdom and truth stand holding hands
As children in virgin trust, 'tis there where mysteries abide dwell and roam
'Tis there in your heart lass where love is first born
Born first in your dream heartburst, then painted to times tail
'Tis the heart that yearns so in the quiet of night, the mind is nothing I say


The heart is where memories ether like us or not
They fly both as friend, and foe alike united as one
Heart is where the army of worth gather in the sun
'Tis where the core of time is framed and won
'Tis the heart that is of matter, the heart I say undone

Love dressed and undressed abides under the skirt of she
Indian Princess of heart, she who blows of such in the night
She bathes the heart of man in readiness
For the impending love that walks upon the thunder hard
She unlaces the corset of love steeped in river deep

Academia holds her not, nor do the sunsets direct her will
She goes where she whispers and follows her will
Shell find you if searching you be
Yet heartwalk is pathway to lite gleaming bright
Passion is her soul, love her breastplate, boldness her cry upon nights time

Riddles cries the fool, not awake enough to breath!
Words brand us in tomorrow, worthwhile or not
They cast us as who we are ringing into eternity
Shall they be words of truth or deceit
The Indian Princess, who walks upon our very hearts soul pounding

It is her breath that unravels our very dreams, unending somersaulting into times deep.
'Tis the heart I say that matters.................freedom be hers