Imprisoned In Expression Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

IAM
these shores
sands, foams, winds
forever filled, opened and
turned upwards; a mist heard
of sweetness, and quivering wisdom
the rhythm of the world in a grain of sand…
An infinite dream made in the thoughts of angels
the man, wandering before the sea, the winds
the forests, both the ancient and in sounds
IAM; a silent Sphinx, of the birth of suns
singing and dancing and dreaming of
marvel and riddle gathered upon
a walk within remembrances
within meetings, freedoms
the space between one
who looks through
the windows of
humanity…
As spirits
residing in
the ether ride
the dawn's pathways
of your life's past and future
both in love and death, and of faith
of justice, and of life; as you dream upon
beautiful desires, pleasures, and pain, trusting
in your souls ability to attain that height necessary
given the hardness, the easiness, and the commitments
to your strengths, honours, and virtues there between
imagination's attainment and the longing for the key
of that doorway to touching and understanding self
in that significance; similar to a pen's ink to paper.
Within this white noise experiencing a voice upon
a stream of blessings; and a knowing cause that
grows towards raising, the vision of one drink
from that cup, offering, a fullness of reality
erasing all sense of loneliness, inuring that
silent nature of the inner philosopher, the
always quiet life living deep inside of you
that is louder than the longing image of
your living truth; and this is that which is
the one inner self, with, an understanding
of the waves, the strengths, and the doctrines
in the depths within you; that of your secret heart
inside your fleshy shell and veiled within a noble song…
One, of genius solved, the beautiful dream passing all
thought to purest gold; an ideal, not lived in vain
this mind, borne upon this earth, a being from
both the night's skies and of all time's worlds
the music written verse from a magical pen
inspired, to choose the powers of, ecstasy
of timelessness, sitting upon the ashes of
joys, and pains, and wonders, and worth
the revealer, off tongue, from hand, in an
inciting beauty, thought alone of all deserts
and you request an audience seeking wisdom
that sings truth, in the shadow of inspiration
words from the mind that always thinks, in
the finest grains within the greatest stones
filled, in the essence, of a most blessed gold
holding all love and necessity, all instruments
of tone, rhythm, and tune upon the lips wholly
held between the savory kiss of self and soul?
In these eyes that blind and possess you, lay
the creation, and the faults, leading you to
your slavery; to you embracing both love
and doubt of enlightenment upon a page
in this sweetest responsibility resides an
opportunity to befriend a most radiant
most savory, most comfortable mist
a chance to understand an eternal
language and unseal the naked joy
of contentment; by this sea, before
the coming spring, breathing in your
waning shadow, as your back faces the
sun; free, so free before you close your eyes
you, once a slave, because a bounty belittling
chance exists as that wolf to sheep, giving your
face the shyness, and generosity, of a forgiven
garment worn by an erupting volcano; you, a
gardener of acquired virtues, one attributed
committed, and comfortable presence, of
all of a lifetime's most profound mystery
holding the knowledge, arming the heart
swift, friendly, equal; a man of love, both
the pointsman, and an outcast versed, in
both good and evil; one stronger, with a
smile, above no one, and below no one…
I understand you, beyond my worth's life
one giving me that gold, that precession
cast in originality, cause, convention
and agreement; and IAM a feather
of and from humanity displayed
before hearts and spirits, the
host, the guest, the least
rather than the greatest
one who turns the summit
of all knowledge, into a step
available to a truly free man…
And I await, patiently in nature
longing for an order in livings root
nourished by, this ever giving earth
an imaginative exaggerator, that ant
from another world, weighing a straight
line of measures before the sun; a scientist
and a butcher, compassionate for both those
hungry and those newly born, IAM candid, and
IAM wed among the angels, IAM the forgotten
reality, IAM all actualities, all facts, within all
tomes; I speak of that which is, the shell, the
diamond, the passion beyond beauty, known
as the master between two minds, the flame
the other part, that climax, a chart and guide
filled with kindness, the end and the beginning
versed in sense, truth, and temperament; passionate
for, the beginnings of the ends of time, honouring light
nearest, to the noblest treasures, faith followed by relief
that yields the spirit; both a traveler, and a navigator leading
all through the mysteries of life; the expression of one another
speaking, and listening, and thinking and standing alone and
in both darkness and light, without interruption, the line
between the angels and the thought of all existence…
IAM that filament, the element of life itself, from the
soils, of minds and dream, shy before the gifted
serving, both pauper and prince; the angels
know, their bread is sweet, with a sweat
of those secrets divine, their pleasure is
the key to the writing of joy, and sorrow
and sadness, and indifference; within me
are the secrets of the peace in the next world…
IAM the chosen of the last, a height not thought
of, the cure for hunger, the quench of all thirst, a
secret to the wind revealing the spring, the wealth
for, grateful followers, the one catching, all of your
dreams and giving you each birth; IAM the mountain
weeping a paradox deep and high, to either a clear
mirror gazed into and the truth that you loved so
a virtue, dying in youth, knowledge, and time
seeking, watching, and holding both your left
hand, and your right hand, protecting your
innocence, that voice whispering of an
over-abundant and eternal universe
IAM, the mystery of time, the one
who opens, all doorways for you
to view the one who weeps for
you; the salt, the sate of thirst
and the sustenance of that which
does so thoroughly, nourish you…
All, which is a fragment of a mouth
that seeks breath, which is that cusp
above race and self and which is light
above the clouds; this being is the firm
boundary, that most massive, of stones
above an unimaginable mountain's high
this pilot, of that flight to the summits of
all life and time, and is as the earth, from
the very essence of heaven's falling stars
and controls, the every seed of all of our
blessings throughout the awe of eternity
holds the full hand, of all of the universe
and is written, in the infinite mists which
veil the Eyes of God; wept of the tears of
all of your descendants; and IAM, within
the nature of all miracles, shy and happy
the last true conqueror of all human kind
holding up, the walls of forever, stood on
time's blessed mountain vast and solemn
awaiting those, who are still convincingly
contented to be imprisoned in expression