if the sky were to burst into a kaleidoscope, colors of

unfamiliar hues swirling and splendorizing the vast

domain of heaven, would the general populace take

notice? I can hear your voice exclaiming: ‘Of course not!’

and if a spectacle of such magnificence goes unheralded,

what chance does a poem have?

only we poets, who are endowed with a beautiful curiosity,

would bask in such uncommon glory. we do not merely

witness it, we create it.

we are poets. we place a tangle of words on the page,

cryptic, at times unpleasant, as if we are trying to deceive,

yet not deceive. a proclamation of our humble existence,

as we shout that there is still beauty in this world, within

the bubble of suffering and tears.

we offer our art as it is, without boundaries, without

guarantees. If you visit our ethereal temples, you will

find that imperial sky, and that beauty…