A poem is a delicate entity with its own story of
creation. It is conceived in circumstances unknown to the reader and it ceases
to belong to its creator once it has been published. It is the possession of
all those who will read it, to do as they like with it, to make what they will
of it. It becomes enmeshed in their own life and circumstances or it is
destined to demise on a crumpled sheet of paper or in a niche of the Big (not
always Friendly) Giant: the internet.
It is with full awareness of these facts that I post
this:
Story of a Poem
Out of the fathomless
Depths of the mind
I emerge
Word by painful word
Dream-draped
Moon-drenched
Storm-smitten
Fairy-populated
Eager to touch
Noticed but by a few
Indifferent to most
Into obscurity I
drown
Whence I came
A diaphanous Non-Entity
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