Creative Challenge ~ Thingamajig ~ Whose Name Is Unknown

It was at that age …

poetry arrived in search of me.

I didn't know, I didn't know where he came from,

from winter or a river?

I didn't know how or when,

He was not from voices, not from words

nor was he from - silence;

but from a street I was familiar,

from the branches of night.

He came without a face,

and he touched me...

I wrote the first line,

A line without pretense - pure.

I did not know what to say, 

I wheeled with the stars,

my heart broke loose on the wind.

---

I had no way with his name.

/ Pablo Neruda /

Lisbon night.  Jan, 2013