To Carry With Words
B
Bill Cantrell
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Who knows a poets worth?
Who knows the hands of time?
The songs of life,
the poet must sing,
the bells of joy must ring
Prayers on the lips of men,
lifting the souls that hear
Soothing wounds,
healing scars,
Incense burning sweet
Light opens tired eyes,
a path paved with children's feet
Walk with them,
live again,
can you hear them sing?
Who knows a poets worth?
His song rides upon his words
In the wind,
he will sing,
as incense burning sweet,
peace smells so sweet
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