Poem Online

There's this thing;

                it's called Beauty.

It changes,

                but it remains

                Beauty.

There is power in being.

There's this thing;

                it's called Child.

It grows up

                but there remains

                Child.

There is power in being.

What line is drawn between naming and being?

Is the line just one of those things that changes?

I need this power of drawing lines.

To separate, to cocoon, to become my own thing

To remain a power

To maintain a being

In the blank pages of a book

Rests potential for fame

In some filled pages of a book

Rests potential for shame

Be careful what goes in your book

But as you sit and write

in the pages of your book

Stop and think and look at what you write

Do you write horror, war, or mystery

Or math, science, or history

Whatever you write

Keep it true no matter what you do

Let the world hear you

As you cry your solemn cry

In the pages of a book

Stop to think and ponder

Why you write your little book

Whether it be from anger, fear, or shame

Or whether it be from happiness, beer, or blame

Whatever the reason may be

I tell you

As you write you mighty story

With its long and solemn cry

Always stop to think and sit

And maybe ponder why