The Poets

They are truth wearers They scream, cry, whisper, sing, laugh Sometimes, people hate them For displaying their wounds and scars For making them sad and careless For making them see the reality Sometimes, people love them Because of them, they dance In the temples, on the beaches, Through crowded streets Because of them, blue sky , painted with gold Rule the day And when they read these wonderful poems The veils which hide the light fall down And the glowing comets Flash around their suns