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All this Poetry

I knew one day these poems  
would become lines on my face.  
 
They will live, stand up proudly;  
Experience forming impromptu plays  
that function and entertain.  
 
Because they have their own lives  
that do not revolve around you or me.  
 
You will never be the tall height  
of building in your own poem.  
 
You will always be the roadie  
altering scenery between sets,  
the stagehand pushing amps  
or a back stage pass.  
 
Listen, You only want to be God  
in the dream that manifests.
 
How quickly they shape shift  
through the narrow passage  
between heaven and earth.  
 
Archangels dangling from clouds  
or Daughters of men  
standing tippy-toed upon the earth;  
reaching for the middle ground  
of a Peaceful Being.    
 
This time I'm leaving ample space  
to mend an imbalance of Divine Love  
pierced by a human pinion of pride.  
 
I'm in the forest, tracking the scent  
of Truth deep stretched across  
the basin in an imperfect symmetry  
 
Before the lines on my face explode  
in Death  
from the meaning of all this Poetry.  
~
Ahavati
Written by Ahavati
Published
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