These are the hands of a poet.
Let them travel the map of your body
And emblazon a brand new world.
Believe that they will carry you through.

These are the thoughts of a poet.
Let them move you, and trust
That they will take precious measure
To ponder the lone flower in the battlefield
As well as the war itself.

This is the heart of a poet.
Let it fill itself with tender love
And beat itself to blissful death.
Know it's one of the bravest and most delicate;
Promise never to break it.

This is the life of a poet.
Let it be, that every good, bad, or in-between
Can turn into a rhyme or a free verse line.
Understand, this is how we learn to breathe.