7 | "Muted imaginations" [nonce form]

Possibly the poem lives
where life that we call real
is barely able to follow
the poem lets one feel
the heartbeat of the swallow
the mind of mauve and teal

possibly the poem finds
a route amid the clamor
soft silence settles there
in a near-familiar manner
when the soul is laying bare
(it's not a practical planner)

its pell-mell observations
and its muted imaginations

it's rather like a museum yes?
it exhibits dreams and notions
and naturally it takes its cue
from mountains clouds and oceans
a thing the soul is apt to do
performing its devotions

the museum of the poem-dream
displays a range of objects
when you place beneath its glass
its quaintly favored subjects
it lets the particular pass
into flowerings of concepts

no thoughts but in things a poet
allowed -- but here the things
once spoken suffer translation
its caterpillar dies into wings
as drawn into strange elation
dim paupers stride as kings