This poem got up and wrote itself
While I was fast asleep
This poem soon enough found out
It had no need for me

Guess it felt it needed to get
A few things off its chest
Wandering around the halls of poetry
While I was snoring in my bed

This poem made its planned escape
From the clutches of my mind
With a basic need that it must feed
On the artistry of rhyme

Taking full advantage of
My unconsciousness
As I lay here dreaming
In my nightly world of bliss

Yes, this poem wrote itself
Without the benefit of me
Proving it can do a better job
When I am sound asleep

Cast your wishes to the wind
Launch your desires to the sea
Throw your emotions to the ocean
Set your most intimate aspects free
Most of all, leave your secrets safe from me
Baby, I'm an anchor
rusted steel exposed to the seaward breeze
aching to race from the sun to the darkest depths
pulling you under in my selfish plummet
there's no escaping the salty abyss I'm rushing towards
You see the bottom suits me, beautifully
perhaps for the bottom is nothing new to me
dwelling out of touch from the sun's rays
never yearning for the warmth of another to rouse me from the darkness
for perhaps the bottom was always meant to be home
rusted steel set perfectly in the moondust sand of an ocean's farthest depths
so cast your wishes to the wind, never tied to the chains linked to me
Baby, I'm an anchor
I was never meant to be
soaring in the winds, together with you set free...

The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
govern me. I have
a lord in heaven
called the sun, and open
for him, showing him
the fire of my own heart, fire
like his presence.
What could such glory be
if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
were you like me once, long ago,
before you were human? Did you
permit yourselves
to open once, who would never
open again? Because in truth
I am speaking now
the way you do. I speak
because I am shattered.