we are all poetic, we are all surviving, we are all everything

I wrote this years ago, in the midst of a sleepless night, in the midst of what perhaps was love, in the midst of that space where one floats in wonder of what is what.  (As you can gather, I didn't get far with any of those midst moments).  I recently ran across this and have also been somewhat ambushed with poetry from all angles.  From the radio DJ, a CSI episode, a rap song (you heard me), graffiti on agave...I'm telling you, the more random, the better the poetic-ness.  Strange to see Keats present himself on a large leaf of Agave, but it happened, and it I took it into my heart.  I love the ability of the human language to melt a soul into a tender moment.  
Back to these words I mentioned...  I figure I'll share them.  I laugh at myself in the memory of this and am able delight in the fact that I am away from that space in my head, but appreciate having been there.
Still laughing...

@6:27am
There was a bird in the sky
It fell, I don't know why.
There was a song in the car
It sounded good and took me far.
There was a dent in my hood
And I stopped.
There were some words in my head
That woke me in my bed.
All my friends the night before
Brought the worlds happiness ashore
Then an hour came upon me
And it stopped.
So those words in my head
That disturbed my hours in bed
Brought many thoughts in front of me.
Wondering what could be
I thought about tears
Then I thought about the years
When my face was streaked & stained
with saltiness and pain.
Then I thought about him
And it stopped.
Now that bird in the sky has a purpose.
It left up there to spread love among us.
To show us simplicity
To show us what could be
To remind us of a song
To hold our hand while we stroll along
To give us a feather to give our friend
To show us the road may end or bend.
And how that feather can repel
A stream of tears when we've cracked our shell
And those things will never stop.