Lost in translation

Poetry is not a thought expressed.
It is a song that rises
from a bleeding wound

or a smiling heart.
Just as trees are like poems that
the earth writes upon the sky.
We fell them down and turn them
into paper that we may
record our emptiness.
The words of a poem
are like the panes of a window,
through which you can see the truth
but keeps you ever separated.
To understand a poem,
you must see with your soul.
To write a poem you must

dip the pen into your heart.
For your dreams are like
a bird free in space
that in a cage of words may
unfold its wings but cannot fly.
For a poem is not a need
but an ecstasy,
a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted
The beauty of a poem is Eternity
gazing at itself in a mirror,
an image you see
though your eyes are closed.
You would know in words that
which you already know in thought.
But in the writing of the poem
you murder the passion of your heart,
for you cannot touch
the naked body of your dreams.