Notes From Below Regarding Her Upon High (Part 1)

A lonely poet sits atop a hill, gazing over the land so still. Her passion, her muse, exists in every tree branch, and every cloud in the sky. A lonely poet contemplates, not sorrow, nor loss, nor love, but contemplates life as a whole. She dwells not on its meaning, but focuses more on its mystery. The only question she asks herself is one that has evaded all contemporary mind. One that has any number of answers, yet fits the individual's innermost lining. She puts quill to paper, and dithers along, of where she in this world, undeniably belongs. An answer arisen, a poem is done, she gazes across the hills, knowing of where she has gone. That is not the answer, she had hoped to find. But it  will have to do, until it is her time. So as I see her from down below, my mind wanders freely upon this silent prose. Though I don't know her, connected we are, through each others words, and our like hearts.This is part one of the two-part poem. Though I will not reveal the contents of the next poem, for I still don't know exactly what it will be, I promise it will be done within the week. This is a new genre to me, so bear with me as I work out the kinks in my concentric poetry. What I can also promise is that the next poem will be from her point of view. I hope this has sparked interest. Thank you all so much. Written November 12th, 2001 © on Nov 12 2001 02:52 AM PST   0 • 12