Poet (Poetry) Tree

Why is it called poetry, and not a poet tree?

Is it not the same ink flowing through our veins? The same passion?

So why must we pretend that we are not family?

We share the same passion and respect for the written word,

We feel the same compulsion to write,

Each word we write keeping us alive,

Our pulse

The same fervor in all of us,

Driving us to the pen and paper,

Showing us,

Teaching us,

Allowing us to share with the world all of which we are,

All of whither is said and done,

Many forget that it's not just ink on a page,

But our souls bared for all,

Many families are not formed from blood,

But another bond,

The bond that ties the poet tree together,

The bond we call emotion,

Let it be love, passion, anger, sadness,

The bond that tugs all our hearts to the pen and paper,

The bond that is the genealogy of poetry