This is a new verse inspired by a line in C. S. Lewis’s book, Till We Have Faces.
I’ve listened to the poets’ lies
through all my many lives;
I’ve sought the dreams and oils
they’ve carried in their bags.
I’ve tripped fantastically into pages
of the fools and weak sages
frantically grabbing the air
encircling the time they ate.
I’ve even added my own two cents
to the lexicon of written words,
equally foolishly, no doubt,
and hungry for time as well.