I am an artist, a poet and writer

I tell of all the beauties that were

A speaker, a watcher and sighter  

Writing of the light in things that occur

But in truth I do this in prayer 

That one day it will come back to me

That I meet someone who shows their care

In this way, truly, thoughtfully, physically 

To be the inspiration, not the inspired

To not be the admirer, to be admired 

To not be the writer, to be written of

To not be the speaker, to be spoken of 

To be the preserved, not the preserver 

To be the observed, not the observer

To be the poem, not the poet.

I tell my wishes unto the moon

But that is just the problem too

To be wished for in the light of noon

Or thought of in the morning dew

I will cut my heart out of my chest

Lay it on the paper to bleed

Stitch myself up and lay down to rest 

I know I will never read

Words from another with blood of their heart 

For that is my role to do

With others in mind I play my part

Tell stories of their golden hue

So I could never be a song,

Something captivating, full of soul 

That will be remembered long

Something beautiful, something whole

And I could never be a story

With writing full of thought and care

Oh, pray tell all of their glory

They were like sweet morning air

I will always be the one with the poets head

 I must be the one who holds the pen

Though I long to be a poem instead

I won’t hold my breath for ‘when’