The Other World
Poets of the real and of the other world
with reality rolled up inside to be unfurled,
reach out to let the other world come to him
and feel it creeping through the fissures in his skin,
into the rivers of his heart and around the bends,
into iridescent waterfalls and Utopian gardens,
and feel them touching the walls of his stolid heart,
coming inside with torches to burn away the dark,
finding the hidden words that took residence inside,
that piled up and hid to soon take him on a ride,
to sprout wings and fly to other worlds unknown,
landing in an exotic paradise to call his own,
Oh paradise, how he longs to feel thy texture,
its internal song as in a symphonic overture,
its softness as in a feathered cloud on high,
and its glow melting all the words into a sigh.
An ode to the other world as it drifts about
out of reach but close enough to hear a shout,
and when that shout becomes an earnest plea,
it will come and set his spirit free.
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