Quietly Wonderful [poem]

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You are quietly wonderful;
I tell you so you know.

You have no need of accolades
praising fake parades with fanfares
blazing on a stage with prizes
given or a coach by well-groomed
horses driven

You lack no part of beauty
made by hammers on life’s anvil
blade strikes iron in your soul
a silver sword speaks through the air:
You are adored

You want for nothing anything
missing is merely a concept
kissing a thesis wrong-stepping
queries aiding and abetting
bootleg theories

You are deficient in one thing
only: fearing the spectre of
loneliness you’ve tried to compensate
so long imagining you’re nothing.
(You are so wrong)

You (if you can trace the infant steps
of dread) will see that you can be
instead a fountain in your self
without the need for nodding heads.
No more you’ll doubt

You are quietly wonderful;
I tell you so you know.


© 2011, Alan Morrison

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