I write of these breezy tunes
the words of delight--dancing
into the twilight
with you into the clouds, we’d
fly into the heart of the sun
the silence of the cosmos, we’d
cry out noisily, the windy sea
and be inspired once more
who but the beautiful, mere woman
a human being--a loving angel
could inspire me--guide me

I write of all these things
which you expect of me

why a mere man could move a woman
just a mere mortal, human being
could inspire you so soulfully
in love, a sanity or madness
willfully, wanton, wondering
who I but just another soul
one of the masses, one of the many,
one of the few, but I could inspire
you to write so very masterfully

the intellectuals would be
at a loss for words

a plentitude--a plurality
the masses couldn’t fly, couldn’t see
why you mere woman could move
a man to write these words
why you mere woman
could write me
inspire the passion of kisses
midnight embraces, which betray
those without wings
but I could hear their whispers
I could hear their muses
and the beatings--the torments

I write of all their weakness
you write of all their strengths
in a fit of fury, I felt our wings
flapping, flaying
in serious determination
who I mere mortal soul could fly
and you golden angel would lead me
the beauty--the bitter sweet
lost sight of the pure white snow
blinded by it’s iridescent light
who you mere mother of all
of the deep blue sea,
the green fertile earth,
whose only wish was to be
held, whose only hope was to be
loved, and to love, our purpose was to
inspire each other, writers of the breeze,
writers of the earth, writers of the heavens,
why I mere man could speak of love
out of the dust which you gave birth

you write of all these things
which you expect of me

Copyright © CJ Clark