Poetry | Life | Writing
An Ode To Poets
Drafting is meaningless if there is no one to read
Writing is tiring when you have to bleed it all in
Reading is exhausting when you feel the need to repeat
You might even quit if you believe it all like this
Yet a poet only writes to pay his respects to life
He doesn’t worry about the mysteries of life
He leans in to reach for the signs, it breathes
As there is a moment, he waits for the reprise
A moment of madness, and a moment of joy
He works hard to breathe life into what he writes
Never growing anxious about having someone to ride his tides
As he knows, there is meaning hidden alongside
The pain and hardships of dear old life
Thank you for reading.
