They'll play for sports and careers
while I laid for poetry,
but as without music
there is no hook or competition
but a simple voice
which into the void
but yearns to be heard, listen,
to what is said instead.
Do I envy them ? Sometimes,
but that is human ;
I am not a machine,
even if I can be as cold as one
too I can lit fires,
make oceans move
or the earth quake beneath
the simplicity of it.
For you may understand most
of what is said ;
it is not veiled
in pretending to be too much
or too little of it
but just enough
to glance the starry heavens
inside Eyrs H/earth.
I do not others bidding to bud :
it was men whom
wrote into wyrds ;
and chanted until the blue shell
formed above us
every morning is lit- ;
as women sang night's cometh
in the apostrophés.
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