If I Couldn’t...What Would I Be?

If I couldn't laugh at a joke, what would I be?

If I couldn't hear in your voice the echo of your soul, what would I be?

If I couldn't see in your eyes the prisms of billions of years, what would I be?

If I couldn't feel on your skin, the tremble of desire, what would I be?

If I couldn't see the blue flung far and wide in the sky, what would I be?

If I couldn't taste the sweet, succulent savor of fruit, what would I be?

If I couldn't weep tears of joy cascading down my face, what would I be?

If I couldn't laugh till I cried, what would I be?

If I couldn't smile at youth... traipsing through time on clouds, what would I be?

If I couldn't have been a child, world at my feet, hopes unbound and wild, what would I be?

If I couldn't dream the stories only dreams can tell, what would I be?

If I couldn't weep from a well, divine, [What hope once was pure as Snow?!] what would I be?

If I couldn't absorb the warmth exploding from our sun, what would I be?

If I couldn't hear The songs sounding through my bones, what would I be?

If I couldn't touch and taste, the Ocean's heaving waves, what would I be?

If I couldn't tumble toward skies - swirling horizons nigh - free fall through space [A ride!] - what would I be?

If I couldn't spy the Moon looking back illumed, a wine, what would I be? Champagne of young lovers eyes! What would I be?

If I couldn't see - and trace - silhouettes of all souls behind every gesture made, what would I be?

If I couldn't hear your secrets blown in [whiley!] whispers to me, what would I be?

If I couldn't tell the rain, drumming on my pane, crying down its sombre train, what would I be?

If I couldn't feel breeze and wind, roving the Globe seeking roving kin, what would I be?

Oh wayward wind! ...peeling the wind chimes... tickling the boughs... bending the trees...

kneading and rolling tumultuous waves, and howling the howls [a bone chilling sound!] what would I be?

If I couldn't gaze at the stars swaying to and fro on strands of Time, a ballet - exquisite to see [oh! sigh...], what would I be?

If I couldn't read the words, scrolled by all the scribes, what would I be?

The words that describe, like jolts, the workings of our worlds, ripping through and raising me?...

The words by mighty men, of mind, [Without them!] what less that I would be!

If I couldn't hew existence out of my maddened mind - to me - what would I be?

If I couldn't be bold and declare - 'I am! and I will my world, extending out from me!'...

... And If I couldn't ask the rest of mankind to askance, to complete this poem perchance, add rows to its meadows of muse, add you to this sculpture to grow, what would I be?