The poet's exposed, vulnerable heart
pumping inspiration through ink filled veins,
bleeding thoughts, pain, joy and words as Mozart
poured music from his soul. Harsh words which stain
pure white pages. Sweet words glowing like gold,
gracing guilded parchment with love so bold.

Oh, fright'ning, horrible incantations
striking fear into vulnerable souls
trembling in darkness as aberrations
create images of Hell fire, black holes,
dragons, demons and great monsters so real
that smiles can't be imagined. The appeal

of artificial smiles and tears unknown,
is why we poets so struggle to hone
our craft. To tempt another or to teach
another, to touch another, to reach
another is the ultimate, sweet goal.
Poets live to enter another soul.

And another and another until
eternal life is achieved by their skill.