Its only when you write a line
That you’ll know
If it weaves into an intoxicating wonder
Or just barely is past the fine borders
Of unacceptable metaphors.
Then on you fear
What is saved for later.
That thought in words
Put together all this time
Making it a poem.
That poem now, is read and repeated
Time after time to comprehend.
You see, that’s where it is unsafe.
In the hands of those who fathom the depth.
It is also fine to look at it being appreciated
A certain thread here & there misunderstood
I mean, they didn’t write to admire it right.
You see, its unsafe again.
In the persual of those that need it.
Your poem now is judged, felt and learnt
The appraisals and approvals are tiring.
You see, your poem is now handled
Pray, that it be with care.
For you know, that the truth is unfair.
You will still go on and ahead
New ideas in ink
They look so pretty.
You know the safety of it is in question again
But bundling the best questions over
You step up
I see, over more poems,
The inquests don’t deter you anymore
The hurdles don’t stop you
Your thoughts are on paper
Better than ever
Crossing that unsafe horizon again,
This time, a better you, as a better writer.