Not Wisdom’s lamp, but some unbidden fire
Lights up the poet’s page (and strikes him blind)
He sings of gods, of love, of Fate’s desire,
But what is that Force that impels his Mind?
As seer sees what he's yet to explore
And prophets utter truths they never planned
So verse arrives, a stranger at the door
A gift the scribbler does not understand.
The measured line, the metaphor, the rhyme
Are vessels filled by Something not his own
That speaks in tongues across the Gulf of Time
He catches words as if they have been thrown.
Thus Inspiration, wilder than the will,
Makes poets oracles against their skill.
September 25, 2026
No comments:
Post a Comment