Hello there distant poet from far across the world, to the eyes of a standing man, to the heart and ears of a young beginning poet girl, to those that sit by the sea wishing they could catch and ride the waves, to a place they want to be, for this is their heart filled crave, to the pages of books and from inquisitive looks, to pictures in magazines, to the flickering images lit there upon your favored computer screen.
by Eddie Rodgers
I ask, when your alone have you wondered of the works of one another that we shared, the thoughts we have compared and think what they truly mean, and the site of each others faces that so many times we have pictured in our minds and dreams, but have never really seen. Could we ask what to this world does our talent seem to bring, are we just substitutes in place of hearing angels here on earth sing, or is it the way that we express these thoughts and words what seem to be what wipes our minds clean, of the wasteful use, that burdens them of mental insanity abuse or is it here to be expressed by worse, because this talent that’s said to be a blessing in disguise is really a poisonous curse. Were we destined to know each other from the opening of our eyes at the first site of birth, or meant to only hear of each others thoughts and accomplishments as they came to everyone else here on the planet we call home but is known as earth.
If asked about me, could of my life you one day tell? Or would the question of who I am or was fail to always ring a bell? Do you know how in the world we have come to communicate together, share our thoughts about humanity and life thru and under so much distrust and dark stormy weather. Have we walked pass each other in the brightness or shadows of the day, wondering as we passed what was the meaning to the words we heard others say, or have we dreamt to one day follow the footsteps of one another in the beaches sand, believing that we shared a special connection here at hand, but thru afar we have spoken some of the loneliest sounds of our beating hearts, revealing the most delicate, brittle, and intricate parts. Of what is really there is it not the feeling of someone who does care, but the love of words and life that so many of us have come to share.
We have talked about bee’s, streams, the suns morning gleam, and the seeds planted in the ground that have now sprouted into the hanging trees, but there is more to life that we so know, like what’s really behind it all that makes everything so calmly flow. Are we just lovers of life trying to fight for what’s right, knowing that there could be a horror tail ended dream that could come to us at night. It comes from the writings that exist so invisible and visible among the walls that we fail to look at but the letters are so amazingly tall. Have we dreamt the same dream from the depths of the dirt, failing to realize what everything around us was truly worth. Do you in the nights mist filled air, wish to be here where I am, as I too wish to be there. So then allow our words to be the flare that guides us to a place of poetically filled air.
Distant poet do you wonder what will happen to our thoughts once the living of our lives has shifted, leaving us lifeless as our souls to the clouds are up lifted? Will you or I be remembered as the brightest star to ever beam like none other that had ever been seen or will we take with us our talents to the sky as if just another bird beginning its final farewell flight of goodbye?
Distant poet I long to know of the troubles that make you weep the inner secrets you do keep and if our words will ever come to meet, but as we do come to face the long drawn out end I hope one day dear distant poet we will come to the conclusion that no matter how far apart we were at least we were always just distant friends.
So far out in to the world as we search to find our souls, let out words express our true feelings and the stories that only the site of our eyes could have ever told.