Embodiment Of Poetry

The dawn of poetry, Who can recall its beginnings? I drink the blue elixir from the sky, I need no tutor, Don't ask me why My inner thirst compels me, From that place beyond instinct For beauty sits in the eye of the beholder Whereas poetry rests in the bosom, Of the one willing to embrace emotion And countless are those not of our kind, For we are of a different fold True, passion barters out reasonings with the eyes, But is easily fooled Yet, poetry is a mother nursing her young, And their bond is eternal, Flowing past death and then some We are led to octaves of joy and bliss, And we bathe in waters that cleanse the heart and soul Our tears are sculptured with morals and concern, Placed on the page for others to find release, For with release comes peace Yes, humble beginnings, Certainly comes with the dawn, And night shall never overtake it's day As for the eyes, it shall see the night and sleep, Yet the heart continues to beat ever on, No rest, no slumber for even in our dreams, Emotion rules, it never stops giving, Such is the embodiment of poetry, And we would have it no other way