Still, know I not.

Still know I not,

The poetry,
Comes forth.

Long did it rest,
Rest, in My soul

Then whence,

 was it, still.

Their it,  to lie, 

the truth, it no more.

Then more, no less,

It ly'th,  no more.

The Talent, To cultivate.

To be'still my soul,
Come'th it now..

Invited I not,
yet come'th, then forth.

This talent, long buried ...
lay dormant it still.

To this, then the garden...
the garden, my soul.

Tragedy, brought for'th,
To cultivate, thus,

This, to the muze,
be grateful, ther'by.

Still know, I not then

From whence,
doeth it come.

Come'th it does,
To now and then

Then and now
come'th it still

still to my heart
come'th it now

Still doeth it come
To'be quiet my soul

My soul to be'stilll
Doth quiet it now.

To reveal is to hide
Remaith their, still.

April 4, 2016