Lost Stanzas

What difference would it make that I lose hope in writing poems because trash talk on TV and foul speech in the streets have cluttered the Paths of Poetry? And you will answer, None at all, because our poems will ascend to a purer realm, where cleansed they will orbit the ancient spheres of harmony and hope, and thus enhanced, they will descend in their full glory into the hearing of those who most need this rescue. What difference would it make that I abandon my apartment in Inver Grove Heights, and went to live in my niece's cabin inside a Wisconsin forest? And you would answer, None at all, because you are still with us whether the place is Inver Grove Heights or the Sonoma Desert in Arizona or some fabled place of myth. So with good graces go to your Wisconsin forest and renew your imagination. What difference would it make that we are tired of our endeavors, lose our focus, wander in circles instead of proceeding resolutely to our shared goals and end results? And you would answer, None at all, because we will always lift each other's spirits, and the poems now buried in our souls will lift themselves of their own accord, and greet us at the crossroads where poets and poems unite.