7Gates: That You Might ‘Know Thyself’
Before We Speak
Two northern stars sunk in the south,
Their lovers, to their left in their graves,
One who water wrote his words,
The other who shyly shouted
Their flesh fled so fleetly
Their immortal words of woe.
It is fitting that poets are born
Into no climate, onto no soil.
It must be that they are possessed
By the tongue, theirs and others.
It is not necessary that we remember
Them as neighbors, or even their names.
Their tongues become ours, albeit twisted,
In our sleep, and our befriending.
What if in life they struggled to
Outdo each other's outlandishness?
Still, now, from the spirit world,
John and Percy whisper to us before we speak.
Contact the author via email to: sidney.hoover@comcast.net
Copyright © 2004 Sidney Dutton Hoover
Last updated: February 15, 2006