Poem: Waiting for a poem

Many people compose their stories

Based on algorithms of logic

My poem emerges from the stillness of my being

So, while my body, mind and soul are settling down

I have to keep vigil inside the substance of my being

Mopping up ripples of uncertainty

Until the whole canvas of my being is enveloped in Silence

This is the moment I crave for and the moment I am addicted to

This is not a magic trick, it is the fabric of being

The foundation of all wisdom

This is the seed of hope planted on the substance of being

It is like watching a sunset, everything is beautiful

It is like sunrise, the unknown is suddenly illuminated

This is the moment of birth when the poem vacates its mysterious state

And enters the realm of the known

Like a midwife, I stand holding my pen and paper

To take notes and embrace the poem

A new life, a new story, a new born

Poetry is conceived under a shroud of secrecy

Away from the prying eyes of man

It is a sacrilege to look inside the mystery

It is a privilege to embrace the poem

I, the spirit poet, stands on the pedestal of hope

Ready to enter the podium of your lives

Not to confuse or abuse your mental faculties

But to illuminate the most hidden of secrets

I have no way of knowing the sacred secrets

Unless I remove all of my acquired knowledge

And become a substance of nothingness

Then poetry is poured into my being

©Kenneth Maswabi