As the poet closes his eyes, and reflects
The symbols and sights, project – all connects.
The conscious, though alert, is taken off afar;
All of realities visions, lines of divisions – mar.
It`s hard to decipher, everything he sees;
Returned to the flesh, by an evening breeze.
The worn legs are bent, ninety degrees;
The eyes are at the right angle -
To attempt to unconstrict, untangle -
His inner conflict; which begs, to present
Evidence of: the truth without disguise,
“Reality without the lies, Please”!
Unseen spiders weaving their webs;
The illusion ebbs, through the current of time -
Like a masterful poet, weaving the internal rhyme
The simple focus entirely on the end line;
While others, the entirety, is on their mind –
The visionary; the outside–insiders.
Then, the bard stares high into the beautiful night sky,
Reaching a realm of pure serendipity -
Then, again; prepares to string his own alluring lie.
Silent music, his life`s only mission;
Expressions without any permission -
Words given to him by the divinity.
Composed By: Andrew Drucker
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