A Poetic Pebble

The tinctures – the repetitions must be continued,

The old end-rhymes restructured and reused

(All the new formulas and old procedures, must be fused),

Until they achieve sublimation and creation is renewed.

The failed attempts (which frustrate, but) are refractions,

Subtractions, adjusting his path to the zenith – by fractions.

On fifty-third and third, the people of an elevated class;

Smile at each written word, (on looking) as the diligently pass.

Those of the poets’ financial section, nod (with a heartfelt appreciation) at his toil.

They share an unspoken connection – like the rows of the auburn and emerald trees,

Which also strive to grow into perfection - our roots under concrete (unseen in) soil.

They (humanity) all form a collection; leaves, on the brilliant boughs, blowing in the breeze - - -

He is finished with the paid play, so his pen begins the true work.

The conceptions are sail off - far away; to attempt and rework

The sights (the glass and steel city), the eyes believe they perceive.

He fights, and writes whatever he can potentially, poetically conceive.

The pen begins the poetic calcination, while invisible smoke rises

From his secret fires’ generation. With beautiful metaphoric disguises;

The illustrious illumination, still remains almost perfectly concealed.

His words slowly simmer and congeal, until honesty sophistry is revealed;

Mercury gives way to iron (steel), yet he already possess gold. This poet is an adept

(Though he seldom appears as such, using “dumb diction”, around his elders and peers)

A master of combining the abstract, to create a common precept…

He is an embarked captain, on the vast sea of poetry, his versified vessel he steers.

His ship is wisely named: “The Stone”, sailing from home (with steady repetitions)

Each day - resiliently sharpening – honing an error in his precious craft.

The verbal boat, is kept afloat through the paces, it`s purity he conditions.

The imitating commanders, are dammed (to the labyrinth) and quite daft;

To attempt (to replicate and) understand - comprehend the cause of his course

(Unless, they have already ascertained the keys – which unlock the source).

… Still none of these concepts or any comment, remains long in his concerns;

(He left behind regrets) as, without relent, the progress and flame still burns.

Outcast, downcast, he lovingly outpours in torrents of inscribed emotions

(Through his constant abstractions), he continues his personal putrefactions.

The captain unloads his entire creative stores, with his daily written devotions.

He attempts to avoid the tireless distractions (the many modern pollutions,

Those anemic adulterations), which (endlessly) seek to destroy his store of solutions.

During the day (without sextant) and Apollo’s sparrow, he`s directed in both sinew and marrow;

While at night Athena’s owl, provides insight, and allow him to prowl (though devoid of light).

Through understanding, his navigation, has grown;

And now this captain is commanding “The Stone”.

He apprehended the gist – the various elemental compositions;

All vision (which was contained), is no longer shrouded in mist.

He refined his sight (in solace) with precision by (laborious rigorous) revisions;

God made every verse more vehement and vigorous, and strengthened his wrist.

Still, there are those lonely times where;

He sits, among society, with an empty stare

(It may appear, to others, that he located there;

Yet, his mind is lost in heartbreak, beyond compare).

Not over some “love”, which most confuse for lust;

But because his minds’ mettle, life has caused to rust.

And when his spirits sink, all he can think

Is (through the constant mental trials): If only he could, he`d leave the flesh behind;

He would separate the immortal succulent fruit, from the mortal inedible rind.

He sits (All joy he forgets)

Searching for something more (among the ocean of the cosmos) – without relent

Yet

In reality, there is only the moment, and no discovery is more absolutely pure

Then he lets go of regrets

Also, he laughs, remembering that the future he (we) had hoped to find;

Has always been there – latent, misunderstood, and confined in his (our) mind.

- - - Finally, as the poet observes, each set of (apparent) passing eyes;

He sees the universes (behind the differences, the colors - which disguise).

He silently converses with strangers (despite any momentary or monetary disparity),

And in each individual (no matter who they might be) is TRULY a star in our galaxy.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker