there is a realm
I’m often transported to
when reading great poetry
it’s one in which the common
becomes more refined
and the simple, more profound
where my words no longer narrate
but are transformed into
a spectrum of light
and where complete, perfect poems
will form as though grown from
a single seed of thought
and yet when I descend
from this lofty height
much of what I will have retained
will have wilted quickly
back to the plain
and the mundane
