When something is understood so profoundly as poetry, one can only be silent. He strives to find words to describe his contentment but cannot. For not a word can even stand with any amount of dignity in its presence. And so they are silenced. This is your reward, a slow inhaul as if to take it all in and absorb it to the soul and maybe a half smirk only half seen. A true poet can decipher this for she knows that this is in fact an ear braking applause. And if not they are silent because they are humbled and contemplating why… cheers to the poet. For true poetry begins not in rhyme rhythm or structure but in conversation.