Poetry And Her Poet

"Poetry, poetry, what have you brought? Inspiring phrases, ideas, or thoughts? Give to me clarity so I may see the path of the task within which I am caught."

"Poetry, poetry, why am I here, enduring the struggles, misfortunes, and fears? How have I wandered nigh to the world's end?" I bask in the light and behold, you appear.

"Little man, foolish man, what could you need? I opened my wellspring so that you would heed voices of wisdom, sent from me and lent for my purposes great. Why then pay me no heed?"

"Poetry, poetry!" flew from my tongue. "Forgive me my trespass, but sorrows are hung onto my heart, betwixt two breathless lungs. I want to be fixed, for my pain is still young."

"Sorry youth, little youth, I can't involve myself with your troubles. I only revolve 'round the ability to show the truth. And able to see, alone you must resolve. Ask for the way and you surely receive, knock at the door and it opens. Look for the truth and be sure to believe, for the answer is something to hope in."