We see a man in reverie of words
who sits, transfixed by some poetic trance.
We see his life divided now in thirds:
his future, past and present circumstance.
His rhyme, anticipated, builds a line
which hides within the concept of a scheme.
He knows it’s wickedness to seek a sign,
and hides his wickedness within a dream
Behind him and below him beats his heart;
below him and behind him draws his breath.
His birth, now un-remembered, was their start,
nor does he bear the memory of his death.
He’s caught the Word, unspoken, undefined
that lingers in his soul and in his mind.

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