A World with No Poetry
Suppose there was no poetry. Then there’d be no language for me to write you a love letter. Saying I love you is always metaphor for the infinite things love is, and the empty vacuum it is not. No poetry means nothing makes sense, or can even approximate what it means to be alive. No poetry makes a sunset irrelevant, and turns a smile into a worthless gesture. No poetry is no end to slavery; tedious days and endless nights with nothing to quench our thirst and no conversation with the stars. No poetry robs us of our ability to understand the sounds of other animals, and to appreciate all the nuances of culture and experience. No poetry is simply not possible. Love demands a language with precious little punctuation, with many words, with meaningful gestures, all relying on a deep understanding and a deeper intuition as profound as any silence.
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