The Poet and The Poem
Poets’ code of honor

We carry the heaviness of the world and go but the world can not tolerate the heaviness of us hug our wounds and walk aimlessly Only the road and hope can bear us.
We have never known love only swallowed the loss of it we have known the city of sadness enough to walk blindly through it
we know how to stand for years because we were not welcomed to sit we no longer ask for sympathy because we know what to be said.
We are artists whose tools are beauty and pain unlucky enough to grieve the misery, lucky enough to perceive beauty.
We start sculpting them both adding some hope: Look how the sky is so blue look how your eyes are the same too look how green the grass is look how green your heart is too look how red the sunset is look how on fire I will be leaving you look how blooming the flower is I will be there one day true.
Some of us are so homeless with nowhere to put their heavy hearts they admit; we have to carry it all the way and they whine; because they will never know the feeling of being light.
Some of us are loved others just get burned by its flames but do not panic we will always write about how good life can always get you get the love we get the pain.
I did not ask to be the poet I asked to be the poem instead because when you are a poem you are loved and when you are the poet you are in pain.
