Who is a Poem?

Poetry in whispers
is born out of the blue
on a barren land
from summer ashes
smeared by first rains
like dandelion seeds,
struggling to find
a heart that's home.
Buried, burned, bellowed
by the sands of time,
drinking the anxieties
bubbling to burst out loud
in tranquil tunnels of dusk
spiralling along loops of stories
on endless solitary roads
through dark lights
on hushed white nights,
consumed with a fire,
inextinguishable, warm
against raging storms.
Words and silence,
staring at each other
on sleepless nights
drenching parallel universes
pulsating dormant frequencies
in layers of coloured loops
floating across molecules
of glowing supernova,
shattering musical shells
spreading as wildflowers
crawling silently on windows
across multiple timelines,
they travel in a raging rush
to reach the doorstep
of a heart that's home,
collect the scattered remains
and gently witness the bloom
till the petal falls in the heart
of a knight that burns it,
loves it, consumes it,
dissolving two universes
from nights of longing to acceptance,
knocking on a door at midnight,
pushing against the trachea
to be swallowed by a loner.
The truth, Oh the frozen truth
Staring right through you,
Could scare you and make you free.
Here's the muffled, gasping verse
turning and tossing on your pages.
The poem wants to become you
but you, you are still someone else..