too many of my poems have been rhyming

Too many of my poems have been rhyming
As if by melody and form
strictly enforced
I could force my words
to fill the bounds of meaning
and beauty, beauty and meaning
both together, woven
among these strands
of audible thought, binding
their substance to the near-
tangible matter
of words made solid
shaped
according to my purpose

But this time, forms remain unclear
Not absent, or as some may suppose,
broken by human hands,
but as yet unfulfilled
and unknown.
Let these words flow, unbridled,
this matter evolve
beyond imagination
what eye has not seen
what ear has not heard
what has not entered the human heart
will yet find its institution there
unknown matter and unknown form
and mystery
yet to be revealed