"The windows are two, and they represent
two views: your take on the world, and the world
on you, your craft, your past and your present;
the door's your future – the hinges were hurled:
The door was thrown out; the world is calling
you to serve it with gusto, whenever
you're ready; we've thatched this hut with falling
leaves – they fall so silent, twirl together:
So twist and trine your words, up under palm
leaves, stitched together like fresh rhymes in time,
the greatest preserver of worldly calm,
the deepest forestaller of worldly doom":
Time – and I have it – and I start to write
about the deepest dreams, the darkest light.
urbansonnets 