The sun rises and sets without expectations. That is the expectations we assume it must have. We tend to personify the animate and inanimate things around us with human qualities. We ourselves in parenthesis are Shakespeare in drag. Our words and our aging bodies are wrapped up in political, social and colloquial soundbites brought to life again and again by transitory mortal breaths.
Our living skins are the fleshy scrolls that contains ancient encoded DNA languages of life itself. And the secrets of incarnating possibilities; that life has for all of us to discover in time.
My preceding words are the arsenal of a poetic dawn, which is a space where creative forces reside behind our own literary masks. Poets are weeds and roses. Duality run amuck to be precise. Poets have an obligation to establish the abstract and concrete in words familiar and in lyrics, yet constructed by the wilderness of our cosmic, creative minds.
Together, we can manifest into being new worlds and imaginings once byproducts of our living minds. We can support one another, without any need to suffocate the evolving narratives of our individualities. Our gifts to humanity. A poetic dawn and sun set now in view.
Let us create experiences infused with the magic of poetic imaginings. Let this be the foundation of our poetic truths.
by Claude Robert Hill IV