Where Poets Come From

day dissolves into the dark,

making shadows framed in light.

I hang the image in my thoughts

for the times my head will host

my heart, and I will feel and understand

the meanings throughout the surface

of dusk as it tells me secrets painted

to lift up the broken. I will revel

in the joy of fading and sink deep

into a cocoon of madness,

emerging with poet-wings to carry

all the people to a paradise

they will never accept.

but I will travel still,

within the flock of hearts made free

from bleeding beyond the wound.

and words will be our home in

a place where the lost never grow old.