The one who reads a poem is also creating it.
The poem the writer wrote is trying to push through words and meanings
meshing in the reader’s mind.
The reader, gatekeeper, judge, and creator
brings to life a poem born from the seeds found on the page.
The poem the writer saw died long ago;
written words stay the remains of its death.
The poem was born from the moment of death,
as thunder from light,
as life out of love’s climatic height.
The reader takes the words as lover’s seeds.
Nurturing with awareness,
dissolving them to liberate meaning;
hidden treasures from beyond the words!
Twin words inside his head:
nursing maids, young, supple breasted
full of milky light of consciousness.
They catch the hidden treasures from the death of the poem.
They bring the poem back to life
into new incarnations, one for every mind;
each read, a creative act.
Yet, each reader as it births a poem creates
in her mind’s eye another god,
creator of poems,
existing also in the mind,
interpreted into existence,
clothed with the splendor and awe
with which the goddess muse covers Her love.
She witnesses her poem child,
and imagining the creator outside Her Self,
gives Him life when She declares Him