Poem About Poetry - The Birth

a inspiration, a holy infusion of the muse then a tabulation, multiplication on so many levels the cells, the legs, the eyes, the nails, the hair all turning up at the right places, a range of musical notes so that they could be worked into a fine art of creation when all is well conceived, there comes sweeping over the valley of thoughts, an angel cueing to all to take on to their feet on a journey to the land of humanity, a contraction to give the world another divine work, either to fall in love with or to frown upon