ode to the poetic spirit

i have no answer for such presence
and there is no rhyme and no reason
for anything that i may or may not imagine…
what is this unnatural attraction anyway
this insistent spillage this pulmonary seepage
this doomed moth seeking the futile
light of the full and spurious moon…
what compels this internal journey of frail musings
this spell that binds me hard to myself like
the proud fool leashed to his elemental rock
and as the swirl of stardust is to the universe.

to seek to reach deep within
all that is contained without…
to be extended like a golden cloud
floating on the extreme eastern edge
of a gloriously stretched horizon…
to notice the sky is a safe blue harbor
for all our fragile human craft…
to see the stars expand like a breathing rib
as the galaxy contracts and releases…
to steal the fire from the heavens and
bring it back to bestow upon the living…
to be bound to the forge like humble hephaestus
head bent to the eternal task of industry.

maybe my mind should be full of numbers
full of plans appointments and reservations
maybe if my head were not up in the clouds
my feet would be more on the ground…
well maybe…but all i can see is the blue flame
to which i have been anointed a guardian
and all i want to do is to shelter this light…
to nurture it and pleasure its flicker and
to watch it grow and to distribute this glow of heat.