I Love To Talk-Yet, I Hate the Sound of My Own Voice

i love to talk- Yet, i hate the sound of my own voice i love to speak- Yet, Everything i say is inconsequential Lack of substance nothing i say changes the world Basically meaningless All i want to be is a Poet Writer Mover Changer Yet, i am forever still Stagnant Never changing As the ocean of life tumbles around me i am utterly alone- Yet, all Poets are alone Well, not alone They are alone with theirFeelingstheirWords The decapitating and equally enthralling Darkness So, in retrospect I am a Poet- Yet, i am not surrounded by words of substance- HOW DO I KNOW MY WORDS HAVE MEANING? maybe questioning is my answer maybe not How do I know if I am a Poet