In 1949, he lay weeping,
His soul captured for a moment in history,
All whitened head to toe.
He did not know why warmth entered his mind
Flowed to his heart and gut
And back to turn his howling mouth to a toothless smile…
In 1949, she hovered grinning with full understanding,
Her soul enraptured infinitely and frozen with no history.
In four dimensions and colors from head to shining soul
She knew exactly why, the warmth flowed from her mind through that darkened hole
Down to his heart and gut
And back up to turn her grinning mouth to a toothless pearlescent smile…
She nor he remembers this now,
But I do…
FIN
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Pak, thank you for inspiring me to create and make poetry a central theme in my work. As noted in my tweet below, I believe Lost Poets is a poetry form and collection that is possibly your greatest work and contribution to the canon of humanity...I can only hope and will certainly strive to even contribute a fraction of what you have and will in this lifetime and beyond.
Tweet on this topic for posterity: https://twitter.com/TheDigitalCoy/status/1503037089125859334?s=20&t=nkCnU4weajP64grPBvqOIg
Thank you and I hope to someday knowingly meet you in-person IRL.
Best,
TheDigitalCoy
##WeAcceptAsh