The unreckoned danger
I Know many things;
Secrets, dark and deep--
Perceptions which touch the face of the heavens.
I can make wheels to ease my burdens.
I can create life from deep love
Which bears me up from pits of despair.
I can evoke tears with the stroke of a pen.
I can fly to new worlds with but a thought.
I can make nightmares or sweet daydreams
From the colored threads and the unused clutter of my wandering thoughts.
But, I have no real joy--
Nothing but inklings and half-heard mutterings.
If find the world grey--
All the colors faded and covered with dust.
It is sparsely peopled by human beings
and crowded with things using two legs
And calling senselessly to one another with their garbled tongues:
If only they could learn to hear,
Maybe, they could learn to speak
And be heard in turn.
I am a paradox of love and spite.