A word is banal,
An inspiration revelatory.
Poets must channel,
From too meager a depository.

The rhyme is too dull,
The sharpness of inspiration cuts deep.
A poem is null,
That misses the feeling that made you weep.

Why should I bother,
Poets undertake too lofty a goal.
Just write another,
That gets no more than the shrug of a soul.

What matters the font,
When overwhelmed feeling what I must prove.
I write what I want,
Hoping it captures the power to move.

Words are too meager,
To describe what makes my soul animate.
So why so eager?
A poet’s burden is to bear words’ weight.