Poetry stood before my eyes
Reflected in the mirror
of my spirit
Yet I could not write
it on paper
Neither could I draw it
in lines
The language I know is
too poor
To describe the
heavenly reality
I could only experience
it in silence!
The similes were too mundane
And the words were too
soiled
Whichever way I
arranged them
They were like
polio-stricken boys
In a perfect uniformed army
parade
Walking without rhythm
and rhyme
I myself felt helpless
like a paralytic!
Xavier Bage
Wed, April 04, 2018
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