Where does a poem come from?
It starts with a thought – perhaps an idea, an observation
Maybe just a question
And lo it gives birth to itself
Out of the galaxy of words and infinity of ideas
A poem takes shape
And superimposes itself on the blank page
Empty of separate existence
As there is no rain that does not fall
Nor wind that does not blow
And clouds that never die, but become rain and snow
Words become poetry
As is the way of all things
You are the Tao’s poem
In human form
You take shape
And superimpose yourself out of the galaxy of potential you’s
And infinity of possibilities
On the blank pages of now
Empty of separate existence
Your journey through life is karmic poetry
How the poem reads is yours alone to decide
As is the way of all things…