The Black & White Poet

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this place (2)

This place is uncommon
Not many have been here
But its description lies in my poems
It doesn't take a mathematician to  
understand it's location
When I
close my eyes
From where I stand you can see from a single viewpoint
The grave. The willow. The bed of roses.
The library. The stream. The mirror.
The broken enterence.
And you can see
the light
the darkness
the wars
Nobody has the capability nor the sanity to take me from
 this place
it's out of reach anyhow,
and too many invisible powers have locked its outer courts
this metaphoric land has trumped geographic possibilities
but who cares about this place- no sarcasm intended
It's only there for the description
of a human soul

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this place (2)