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Poets, Have Heart
Poets, have heart. Though often misunderstood, Under appreciated, Not like the torch that burns away, Our kind is of a stronger wood. Alliterate our hearts, Personify our lives, Give depth to every word, And breath to every mind. We dip our hands into our souls, Our quills, our ink – the tools we know. Timeless unto time, In each age we last, And in a world that passes by, A place there ever for shall be, Our kind, our cast, Poets, Have heart.
We live in a time when it's easy to feel as though our words fall upon a deaf audience with turned heads. Poets, have heart in the knowledge that no matter how it looks, and no matter what may come, there always has been and always will be a place for us in this changing world...
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