Poem A Day: The Poem Inside Me

These words are not the words of my poem.

This is not the tone nor the style

of the poem I am going to write.

These similes are as different from those I will use

as night is from persimmons.

These metaphors of stick figures

amidst a Rembrandt chiaroscuro.

This ink a mere symbol of the blood I will shed

When my poem is birthed upon the world.

And you. You are not the reader

whose eyes shall fail to interpret this poem.

Nor am I the writer

who will write these unspoken lyrics.

This poem that is inside me is God’s poem.

My life is His ideas made flesh.

And all that I am or ever will be

is a pale imitation of the splendor

that awaits us when at last,

the poems of our lives are read.

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