Ars Poetica (in Sapphics)

There’s a chasm splitting the signifier
from the signified. All the linguists agree.
Severed from the tangible, words are almost
meaningless, they’ve said.

Poets play contrarian, tasked with standing
in the gap with arms outstretched to meld a vast
rift, and so erase the sunder between our
symbols and concepts.

Word and meaning wed as one, in the minds of
those who poetry reaches. Both in tandem,
planets align: the music of the spheres in splendid,
perfect harmony.

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