Years ago in a poetry class
she spoke of black holes and energy untold,
and of a medicine man, linguistically inclined,
smartly dressed, with a flashing smile.
And of long-legged girls, with gold lock hair,
that falls across eyes deep in dreams.
And that the light from the stars is too distant to reach,
thus is only noticed because of the dark.
And the space between a quiet and meaning,
lies in a white shadow of learning its master of change.
Where secrets are kept in a breakable glass,
infinite in nature where everything is.
Where is she now?
As with unfinished sleep I lie
remembering this poetess with her alluring words
her pleasurable charm in a distant way
as it seemed she was guided by a cleaner light
from a visitation of a higher truth
that voiced her words in a hidden sorrow
breathing the echoes of a seductive sublime
that never were equaled or I heard again
as she never returned to the poetry class.
And what of this remembrance I ask of myself?
As a dream in a sleep falls into her.
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very engaging poem…especially since I was somewhat put off by the title