They say the best Warriors
make the best poets.
For art can not be made for the sake of art,
but by the reflection
cast forth by the creators soul
                        their experiences
                              their emotion.

Though my hand has yet  learn to write
my heart does not need such lessons.
It has studied well from adversity of strife.
                                                                     of love
                                                                        of life

It is forever scarred in the shape of art
Joined by a community
Who's souls bleed to paper
in the form of poetry.

Poetry that takes many shapes
Holds many secrets;
Constructs beautiful stories
that express their agony,
                  their joy,
                      their thoughts,
                          their perspective.

If this is how poetry breaths.
How can I not be a poet?

As I join this guild of artist
I will  learn this art
                this wondrous expression
                           this mystery
For how could I not?
When my heart is there
and my mind races toward it
As too, the hearts and minds of many before me
                                                                    many with me
                                                                              and many... to come.