Timeworn or Reborn

If we conflate the sound of rhymes,

we mess up the rhythm sometimes.

There is a place no one knows;

That is where a dead poem goes.

We knew that there had to be

a grave site for dead poetry.

Just as the Akashic Field

where live poems are revealed.

Dead poems may be reborn

when Gabriel blows his horn.

I doubt where my poems will be

in that future history.

Probably in both places.

Who knows what time erases?

Walt Abbott 3-20-2012