That I, an
unknown poet at the best,
Would feel so strong the pull of Imagery
To scribble out these lines before I rest
'Pon reading of your life and poesy
Seems strange. I've often felt a gossamer
Connection to your life -- invisible
The cords that bind two Menschen einsamer
Are chords in vacuum played, inaudible.
Your life cut short when you were twenty-six
The ripe old age at which I pen these lines
Your language rich with metaphors and tricks
A quantum leap above these scrawls of mine.
Tonight, I wished that I could cease to be,
But Keats restored my faith with poetry.
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