We poets are teachers
The artists, the leaders
The dreamers, the weavers
Of minds of the infinite
Wisdom conceivers
The gods that you worship
Were made in our image
The heroes you envy
Are born of our wrath
To walk in the steps
Of our off-beaten path
We are mythical martyrs
On whimsical quests
To tickle your fancies
And beat in your chests
When you lock it away
We are there with the key
And a piping hot cup
Of divine empathy
For we feast on your pain
And we dine on your pleasure
We bask in the sun
Of the stormiest weather
And none may deny us
The power we hold
Not an ocean of greed
Nor a mountain of gold
Can stop us or touch us
For we own the skies
The angels you honor
Composed of our songs
Yes we poets are muses
The Tantalus juices
The shapers, the wakers
Of your inner-peace in this life
We are makers