The ancestors of men round nightly fire,
would chant and dance to rythmed storied rhyme
to celebrate their Deities, and aspire
to heights of knowing past the leash of time.
Is poetry religion's ancient arm
which dares to reach beyond the ring of light
to chart the very Dark and save from harm
our seedling hopes to triumph over Night?
Unloved by most, this chariot to modes
of pure and priviliged thought, is used by those
who play at words, and know of inner roads
to realms where 'near to Thee' is not a pose.
It's rare to read a soul-provoking line
these days, but therein lies the real Divine.