To Summon

Yes, poets speak of love,
      But they speak of all else too.
 For all they try a voice
      To find speaking true.

 So many voices fill this
      World, and I know some.
 But too few speak through me,
      And to me do not come.

 If I could cast a spell
      And summon the spirits
 That do around us speak,
      I would without regrets.

 Maybe, I think, to summon
      Them is to listen well:
 To repeat the uttering
      That despair does quell.

 For the World hates not Men
      Nor loves them in delight,
 But offers up endless moods
      And we select our right.

 So the poet’s subject
      Is all it is that be:
 To seek and find and remark
      On all the living see.

Featured image: Silhouette photo of trees during golden hour, Wild_Dog_Dingo /^ •̀ᴥ•́ ^\ on,

Please don't forget to share!

Leave a Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.