Why Poetry

There was no purpose or plan No mentor took me by the hand I never knew 'if', 'what', or 'how'. But I know why I became a poet. To gaze upon an entity To observe a person To listen to sounds To feel, to touch, To inhale aromas unsensed by others. That's why I became a poet. Moreover, to listen to the fleeting heartbeat and unspoken words of a dying one awaiting the entry of an angel. That's why I became a poet. Furthermore, to know the pain of one who has lost his way and finding a way to restore hope to him. Indeed, to remind such ones that we all fail in some way. That's why I became a poet. To open the eyes of ones too blinded to see the beauty inside of them; to help release the pain within. That's why I became a poet.