She hides beneath
The abstract—for fear of truth—
She hides in love, hate, values
And moons. Sometimes flowers
Shapes, colors, kaleidoscopes of heaven
Even moments- but never more—
Never the simple line of rhyme
Summing up her faith…
It’s when she dwells in the mysteries
Of the ungotten, and undefined art
That allows others to revel in their work
For she is nowhere to be found.
She writes and leaves, writes
And writes to leave,
And others take her world.
The pale shadows of a muse,
The sincerity truly lost on her.
Her page, a dream catcher,
Trapping the visuals—the cryptic imagery
Of meditations that call on the wildest
Philosophies and she can only write—
Shaking a little, laughing a little,
Dreaming, dreaming on a page.
But never more.
Masiela Lusha
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-abstract-2/
