From Mother Joy and Father Sorrow,
Poetry was born
in a place where the sun shone bright for days
and the nights were dark and cold
and then it would rain,
and hard,
for hours without stopping
but it would seem like weeks or even months.

And the only sounds you’d ever hear were music
or the hollow pang of a timpani
or nothing

and you couldn’t tell what was emptier.

The languages they spoke there were called Love
and Pain

and there was an understanding
that on this day,
the day that Poetry was born,
a key would be given to Joy and Sorrow
to give to their child

and this key would be called Truth

and it was to be scorned
and it was to be revered
and it was to be so
those who choose to see would hear the music
in the hollow pang of the timpani
or nothing.

EJZ 04.08.2015