I read it to a blind man for only he could see
the honesty within me and what you mean to me.
He sent me to a wise man and asked him to explain
the meaning of the way I feel, the rapture and the pain.
We sang it to the oceans and waited for reply
but silence was their only gift beneath the weeping sky
I shouted in the moonlight berating stars above
why won’t you give me answers to questions of my love?
But no one eased my burden for no one really knows
the truth behind the feeling and how that feeling grows
I asked again the blind man to make you understand
the meaning of the poetry that bleeds from shaking hand.
He smiled upon me gently and said the truth you seek
is found within your aching soul and tears upon your cheek.
The words upon your parchment are mirrors of your heart.
An outlet of emotion but wouldn’t even start...
to tell her of your torment and how you really feel,
and just how much you love her,
……no poem ever will……