The Poet

The Poet

Words on the page are just the frame

The mere holders of a poet’s thought

They allow him to lay a mold

To pour his masterpiece

For how can one convey that which is the soul?

The imagination and creation he brings

The page

The words

The poem

Merely tools to give a glimpse of that which is

A Poet’s means of placing a faded thought

That is all a poem is

Faded and blurred

The reader cannot truly see and understand

Such deep enlightenment

Stirred within every poet

One only sees a minor part

Small compared to the grand image

The incomprehensibility of the world

Even the poet is just a mediator

A small humble man

Trying vainly to portray wonder

Alas how can it be done?

It can not

Thus the poet is a troubled one

Like everyone else

Lost in Splendor

Understanding Life