I believe poetry is the highest form of literary composition.

Though the sun is brightly shining
Over the glossy waves of the sea,
My love, she lies buried and pining,
In a tomb by a grave she calls to me

I have walked alone this empty shore,
With a shy camera in my trembling hand
Taking pictures, as the dead implore
The living wings at a gull's command

I talk to him at his mysterious ease,
His swift beauty is his strength to fly
I lift my camera in the autumn breeze,
As he spreads his gray wings to try

To fool me, but in a flash I know him,
Our spirits merge; we rise into the wind