Innovation

In the stillness of longing the spirit sings,

Is this a dream? Where is the dream?

Thoughts sweeping- silent and soft-

On wings of gold

In the air of evening the poets turn

To the blank and from the blank

To the limits. Wrapping and entrapping

Drowning them in require.

Break them now!

Shatter the oppressive sky

Into a thousand diamond knives

Apollo's blessed arrows

And yet, the nature will tire

Ruts seduce the unwary rebel

With odes to peace and ease

For stars seem leagues away

And on the bed of ourselves the old ones turn

To the known and familiar rhymes

Revolutionary no longer

Until the spirit stills once more