What Do I Say When The Darkness Goes?

"The poets leave hell and again behold the stars." - Dante Alighieri, Inferno

I wanted to write a poem.

But I saw myself in a mirror wanting to finish its sentence.  

I could only speak of legends, so I blinked one into existence 

when talking to myself through a mirror. 

Telling myself a story that will never be finished. 

Telling myself a story that will never be heard.

Telling myself a story that I won't remember

while wanting to be where my heroes were. 

I wanted to write a poem.

Moving syllabus from its mound,

raising dead tongues to speak these cliff notes.

I guess these lines will have to do for now. 

I wanted to write a poem.

Seeing what was once savored.

Remembering what forgetting, tasted like. 

Listening in on the antonyms wondering,

if they're any good, actually?

I wanted to write a poem,

Feeling its words move into ground, roll into thunder,

move into being anything other than itself.

I wanted to write a poem.

More than just vision.

More than just sound.

More than just words. 

More than just being an old proverb... 

I wanted to write a poem.

So, I remained silent...

Waiting for the poem to write me. 

"All of my heroes are dead.

Time has taken some, and thoughts have taken others."