How sometimes a Poem feels far too epic to manage anything more than a near-silent sigh of an utterance.

Often, you leave it at that, knowing another day, some other-worldly language, will surely present.

Persist, this poem will, and might seem, at times, like too much, or that you are not enough to tell It’s tale.

Everlasting is your love and your musings of It, this storybook Story, this Force to be reckoned, this Poet.