Spelling Bee

I never wanted to enchant you
With words impossible for others to assemble
In sequences hypnotic

For I would not thus cage the bird, by artifice
Of your holy living heart
And make of it a thing possessed, or held by me

But I needed, instead to give evidence
To the ecstatic flower that blooms between our lives
And souls, the one invisible

That dwells in a world we cannot visit
Because we are these worlds, not words
But secret dreams and beauties

Held beyond all possibility,
Especially that
Of becoming true.