The Intellectual

The Love

You are the greatest compliment in a room full of insults.

You command the stage in a monologued bliss

Filled with internal text books regurgitated through

Haphazard dictionaries that mated with the intimate side

Of conscious human thought.

You are so beautiful in a way my words will never touch.

To touch you feels like burning my fingers off

Because the attraction is stronger than fire to wood.

Singe me.


You’re the quiet room filled with quiet people

Who stare at each other with wonder,

Yet, they never open their mouths to say a word

Because they do not think the other will understand.


A waterfall of wonderful wonderings 

Push the rock, and break it apart,

Until it is washed away in the strength that it is

And rest, only when the waves become calm at the bottom.

When it has run its course.


I strive to find you in all of my atlases

But alas, the last page leaves me longing for more.

I want to fill a library with you and make it my best collection

For you are the pages I could not write.

For you are the writer.

And I am your audience.

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Starward's picture

Bravo!  And still speechless

Bravo!  And still speechless with awe.

Enjoy effulgent days, and exquisite nights,

unto the exultations of Heaven.