The necessity of luxury
and what at some other time
I’d call a luxury – or others would –
it’s not, it’s – oh – rightness -
used rightly...
like now, aslant in the reclining chair,
the patio door open just enough
to bring air into the room,
March air which feels like the most
precious commodity, substance, gift, grace,
where, how, could I say;
and the book of poetry held loosely,
glanced at occasionally;
some phrases, some words, of Tom’s
growing timelessly, flowering,
seeding a generosity of new poems
too formless to call mine
but the warmth of his heart
makes mine to expand, and
boundless now; the mind too, boundless;
a boundlessness of poetry;
then, now, always; so that
in this moment, heart, mind, poetry, boundless,
there’s complete liberation;
beyond luxury, beyond necessity
and poems may or may not be,
for being’s all…
poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
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