When I paint a poem

I do so with careful strokes

Dotting the brush with delicate touch

Verbs are rain hues

While nouns proclaim boldly red

I add adjectives that remind of Adonis the Champion

And soothe the plural with lavender and sage

Language as a journey towards the holy

Delving into the mystery of existance

Somewhere sepia is searching for steel encoragement

And violets grow by the pentameter

A garden is the library

With flowers on the hill

Left for the sake of art commentating on the societal ills of the land

Poetry repeats the same frequency through the ages

Like a handrail for the elderly

And a vitamin for the weary

It falls together piece by jigsaw piece

And coalesces to bring the zoomed out into clarity

Like a Porter Robinson song wafting in a dorm room window

It teaches the moment is all that matters in this life of light and darkness

Teaching that the balance of zen

Is the only way to find yourself whole as a human

A little good in black crevases

A little melancholy in the supernova of the day

Words radiate teaching the angles of logic

I sail into the inkwell

Towards the Kraken

Towards the tentacle wrapping tight like a dot of conclusion