The world is a poem held in the eyes of the poet, you.
Yes, you write the world you look upon, making sense of it's chaos (or not).
This world is your world, everything you survey is yours to see.
What then is the poem you sing in your dreams?
What then is the poetry you hear in the silence and the noise of a heartbeat?
What then is the world to you?
It's a poem you're holding.
A hug it hold it close never let it go kind of poem.
The world is a poem that you can hold and read if you want to.
Do you want to?
I only ask because I want to, and I do.