For A Short While

A poem should not be an Airplane

               lifted up by its own conventions

drifting precariously between drafts and drops.

As if to carve its name into the ever fluid

dripping clouds.

Nor should it be the wings upon it,

                        tarnished silver reflecting grey existence

held in place, as if to ensure a stable future

A poem should not be a Tree

                              mighty on earth yet lowly to the heavens

branches forever reaching but never

quite grasping.

Nor should it be the fruit upon it

                       more sapphire than the snow below

only for its true colors to be carried away by a touch

A poem should not be a Mountain

             forever there, forever to be

walked upon.

Nor should it be the rocks upon it

                     deteriorating at the wind's critique

as with each whim, it loses more of its face 

No, a poem should be a vapor trail,

                   left behind as a signature upon the lapis

                for a short while.

Existing only until the sun catches up.

A poem should be a water droplet,

trapt between green scales

             for a short while.

Catching the moonlight within its gaze.

A poem should be a path,

        steps carved into the stone

             for a short while.

Leading to the Raven's sun and the Bodhi's branches.

A poem should never become

"was" or "will be."

A poem should only be,

            for a short while.