Condition

Some, like a car of mileage,

Is broken down.

Some, like one awakening from a coma of unconsciousness,

Is of sensorial revelation.

And some, the weed pullers of life,

Know all too well that being

Relies on experience’s cultivated soil for enrichment.

The poet, the whisperer of thought in its first utterance,

Is a condition of forever irrigating

The landscape of mind,

Asking but to give growth

To the reader,

And thus,

Empowerment to the poet.

Yes...

A oneness of purpose.

Yin and Yang coalescing.