Poetries Lot In Life Poem by Bill Cantrell

Each stanza, 
holding hands 
Sharing the collective glory, 
of the ones they encircle 
Taking turns, 
reflecting the cravings, 
of our hearts desires 
Have you listened to their voice? 
A subliminal whisper, 
In colors calibrated to the passions, 
beneath our awareness,
even those that we have locked

From garnets to sacred gems, 
embedded in every line, 
praising the uniqueness and creativity, 
of it's writer, 

along with that which glistens
I have painted each word with endorphins,
that through our eyes, they shall intoxicate the heart
To what end?

Listen,
we are but a candle,
some approaching the end of their wick
Will the smoke of our poetry,
smolder or stand the test of time,
leaving part of us behind?

See,
poetry has two eyes,
one for release,
one for giving,
both of equal merit,
as each springs from the heart

Remember,
there is a place where rainbows die,
when gold turns worthless in the end
The book of life is laced with poems,
may our names reside within,
even poetry says amen