this poetry i pen…

The poetry I pen today
will speak from out my soul.
And yet its incantation
cannot contain my whole.

It speaks for me, yet only part --
it does not know my mind.
Its innocence is natural;
Its paper eyes are blind.

And like the lines poured out today;
my mind finds limitation.
I seek to find eternity --
Some startling revelation.

You'd think I'd learn to fail the test;
not wrestle with frustration.
You'd think I'd know the poem's role
In pondering creation.