us poets are far too arrogante for our words
we speak of intangible things
with such sincerity
convince our readers that we have discovered some sort of truth
tricking them into a false sense of understanding
we think our words and our thoughts are grand
grand enough to be shared and listened too

but perhaps this is okay
perhaps our vague writings of love
and power and greed and anger and sadness
perhaps these poems are not arrogante answers
perhaps we are not tricksters
maybe, just maybe, poets are the translators
of human emotion into ink

but what would I know?
i am just an arrogant poet