If poetry won't paint a path or show
the way men's consciousness may come to see
the source of who they are and all they know
is truly rooted in eternity,
What good is it? What value verse or rhyme
whose reach displays mere un-transcendent wit?
Men live whole lives with precious little time
in pain and prayer to learn a little bit.
So near total is Men-kind's ignorance
of seamless kinship with infinity,
that poetry, which makes ideas dance
and passions dare to feel divinity,
is sacred, even holy, and should be
listened to and written, reverently.