The Heart of the Poet – Ana Sylvi

art by John Atkinson Grimshaw

 

They say we‘re naïve and we’re captive

In the rhythms and forms of the past,

That we’re stuck and denying the evidence –

Beauty’s a dream that won’t last.

 

No more sweat and forge in the fire of words –

It’s a prominent gap in the line,

A fraternity of emptiness with the tips of the swords

Just broken for what they cannot confine.

 

The beauty may be hidden and covered in mists

But in the heart of the poet, it forever exists.

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