Normality is a home looking for another home,
Bracing for a venture into the perilous unknown,
Sitting still with its heart begging it to move,
Waiting for rules and regulations to approve.
To hell with regulations, the gird of all freedom.
Let them breathe with the wind and roving sun.
Let poets make up words that come alive
Like a paltry breath that needs to revive.
They see the moss growing under the rocks
As stagnation creeps in to bestill the clocks.
Moving at no speed, sinking into the quiet air,
Time stays at home like a winter clad bear.
Words in black and white need their color,
Like the sun and clouds meeting one another.
Poets turn rhetoric into an enchanting dream,
An exotic paradise as it may seem.
They reinvent reality as a moving truth
That stays at home then lets loose.
A venture into the unknown,
Let reality stay away,
As poets run about
As they come out to play.