poetry in motion

have you seen walking through the village
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
thoughts through my head
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
brother, i am fire
therefore i may not
under the harvest moon
which i wish to remark
he speaks not well
not from the whole wide world
friend, whose smile has come to be
music i heard with you was more than music
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces