Poetries Rise

When poetry evolves It must first rise from the dead Setting things straight, exposing the missing common thread When pens are anointed, like the queen as to a knight The high priest is at the alter, on its horns the blood is red and bright Then poetry ascends, as incense then ignites, emotions that we never knew, we are the children of the chosen few Pandora's box now opens Please tell me what you see? Inside is but a mirror, an inkwell to eternity, yes, thrust your pen to pierce my soul, emotions then will hit the floor, for poetry is an open door Let it be opened door, let it be your opened door