That Poem

I want to write that poem
The poem within my heart
So vague secrets will lack the right guess
So powerful and clear that words fade when being said
For those words are not close to its description
That pristine poem exists once and only once.
It has no identity, less than an unknown.
Only blind eyes obtain a slight glimpse,
No other, no more
No beautiful fingers with rings can feel,
But the passion of that poem
Is heard through the connection of music
Only once, no more
I want to write that poem
The poem within my heart