Being peripheral

You were gracing the sun and the balcony

The window, hiding behind the breezy winds

The vast and pronounced evening shadows

Were playing a symphony.

In this beautiful, silent moment

I was just another company

A lowly poet, cheap and ready

With catchy and attractive rhyming stance

Floating and warring

Content on the surface of those

Dense ‘sous-entendu’ words.

I was merely peripheral

Engaged in cosmetics,

Never inside the content

Groping for the ‘non-dit’.

It is little wonder

I had to remain as a number

Like a brown paper cover

With a silver ribbon

Upon which, the giver pens

About the intent;

Though this importance

Is temporarily noticed

In a while

It is to be fearlessly throw out

When the unexplored, wild

Twilight, a treasure within, unfolds,

A language beyond words re-opens.