Poetry's Ends

The time will come when I'll let go of words.
They'll fly from me like brightly colored birds,
And carry all this poesy out of reach.

There's truth behind this verbal scintillation
That's hidden by poetic inspiration.
And silence is the essence of its speech.

Meanwhile, this verse, this gaudy feather screen
On which the shadows dance of things unseen
May still a few more worthy lessons teach.

These words aren't mine. They never were. Fly free.
Let silence be.