Less Than a Poet

1 November 2007, 7:53 AM

I need quiet,
or this gift dissolves
and I become less
than a poet.

In silence I
sit, therefore; ponder
where I’ve wandered since
the last words fell

from my pen; found
voice outside myself,
affirmation and
validity.

I can’t recall
when last, where nor why
I found time to weep
or laugh or fly-

no mystery
I find myself oft’
dying, not knowing
now how to live.