Beware poets.  Conceit consumes

Oh yes, we understand how you have suffered
Such great gifts no one understood,
Except that teacher, so eager to please with ink stained hands

Beware young poet of your mirrored pen-hand
Reflecting only your own visions
        As if you could replace God in this universe of stars
Your mirrored hand withdrawn from the waters of truth leaves no impression
Only the smallest ripple for an instant remains (poets understand this)

Beware young poet of your own conceit
You say nothing new,
You write old truths to fresh eyes
Is that enough for you?
  
Stand without ego if you can…strive selflessly
Put ambition away
Show love
Let go of conceit to see the world and write