The Logic Of Poetry Has A Color And Shape Of Its Own Poem by Shalom Freedman

THE LOGIC OF POETRY HAS A COLOR AND SHAPE OF ITS OWN

The logic of poetry has a color and shape of its own
Its clear silences ring deeply as paradox confounded into meaning
How many others have made Beauty of words
And still are sung of only by the Silence?

How these days go by longing to remain alive
Because life itself bears within it the best of these most poignant dying moments?

Our doom is certain and our final word never to be clearly heard
But we as we are can be in this world for our time with all its beauty as us-
There is no more wonder than this God gives-

We look out and up each day as a child may still look for its first light above-

No one knows where the darkness ends and even if it is darkness at all
We say the word ‘God’ and all we know and mean is that our greatest meaning must be beyond us – if it is to be at all
‘God’ we say ‘God’
And who are we and what are we
if not a part too of this Beauty somehow greater than we can ourselves ever really hold on to?