Poetry shines with light and beauty,
True art woven by intricate words.
It can sing songs so stunning,
That it outshines the best of songbirds.

But that’s only half of the story...

Poetry also grows in cold dark places,
In the pits of immense pain.
Fed by air filled with suffering,
Nurtured by acid rain.

As it shines with such light and beauty,
Poetry embraces true darkness.
What a conundrum it is,
That we can have *beautiful madness.