If poetry is all it's cracked up to be

Then why not do it all the time

Let's just allow the Word

that was

in the beginning

to carry our lives

to write the story

 

Why

our insides would turn all out
                                               

Yes

they would

 

But we're already insides out

 

Poetry just acknowledges that turning

and

as we know

What is seen and acknowledged

basks in light

 

And what is not acknowledged

sulks in the shadow

 

And I guess

that's how come we have good and evil

 

Someone started poeting

and praising

 

and left something out . . .