The Stage Poet

The curtains now depart and silence does replace the whispers of true art his voice subdues its pace. He speaks in melodies intense, in soothing tone, and on a golden fleece fine words are resting prone. No ear can now ignore what man and God created, received by every pore all souls become sedated. Eyelids soon fail to carry the simple load of lashes, at first they blink and tarry remember happy bashes. Each limb feels warm and pleasant 'umm' goes the beating heart, from Priest to simple Peasant they float, for this is art. Sweet sounds drift through the layers of human skin and bones, as all become keen players and copy precious tones. A poet in hypnosis holds many thousand hands, walks through a sweet psychosis that mankind understands. A poet uses senses deep eyes, sharp ears and lips he walks through all defenses and sleeps on lonely ships. You see a true reflection inside your glass of wine, firm stare in your direction as if to say 'you're mine'. A metronome of fingers blood rhythm of the ages the music always lingers no words shall live in cages.