Читать книгу You Teach Me Light - Melaney Poli - Страница 11

Let me touch one soul by my art, he said. I have a fire.

But he wondered: what if the whole world refuses to hear?

He was good for a while at throwing brilliant bouquets

of words. He could make you see with a splash of vowels.

Color your mind by metaphors, story. Editors loved

him. What happened? If you’re reading this,

he found the real diamond, better bliss,

an end large enough to surpass all he loved.

He revised to the woods, stopped publishing. The owls

survey his notebooks, words for the sky, not bookcases.

There are unknown splendors in every corner, without fear.

He will have a bonfire some night, without regret, or desire.