Sometimes the poem is in a silence
Now I know what it is to have a heart
Borne from stillness in tempered brilliance.

Expressed experience masked in clairvoyance
True journey is return broken apart
Sometimes the poem is in a silence.

The heavens call to me as consequence
Only what dies holds beauty birthing art
(Borne from stillness in tempered brilliance)

Under the spell I fell in transcendence
My marionette pulling a mad cart
Sometimes the poem is in a silence.

I dream rising splendor circling grievance
Ambivalence trips me up from the start
(Borne from stillness in tempered brilliance)

I’m the play, the flame, and its evidence
Pricked with life, my eye is the piercing dart
Sometimes the poem is in a silence
Borne from stillness in tempered brilliance.