Analysis of Soul of Poetry

Nothing leaves me smitten
like a fresh page, yet unwritten,
nothing holds my visions so untouched.
Blank absorbing in every written word I pen,
blank as to oppose a prose’s clutch.

Emptiness lays quiet,
a clean unspoken faint defiance,
emptiness with quiet violet underlines.
Naked as a hidden handwritten composition,
naked, just as ivory in the sky.

Bareness of it soothing,
gives to me a moment moving,
bareness subtle something underneath.
Open as a window where sweet unsettling winds blow,
open window to the soul of poetry.