The Poet

Thoughts on who a poet is.

                                 

              

                             The Poet

Can anyone know the mind of a poet, I think not.

For they themselves are unsure at to their true identity.

For the are the Painter, The Story Teller, The Linguist

The Historian, The Dreamer and The Dream Catcher.

They give and take away in words, That which is longed

For. That which is sort after, the unobtainable.

And yet in a few brief words, worlds are created, dreams

Are dreamed and adventures begun.

Within the poet are all that we desire, all that we hate,

All that we love and long for.

The poet is the unknown, yet their words have a familiar

sound, a familiar vision of that which was, and that which is 

To become.

They are the invited and the uninvited guest of the mind,

And heart. Compelled to be read because of some faint Familiar

line. They are the lover of the faint hearted, who with

Trembling hand copies that which  has already been written,

Now desired to be read.

The poet is in each of us. mysterious, unattainable. And yet

somehow...we feel that......