The Happy Lamentors, Poets

from the top of love's peaks flying off into happy clouds go the poets of one extreme cast into the bowels of sadness abandoned, left cold, rejected, ready to end their pity... go the other half what would poetry sound like from the middle? the sound of stillness, smiling, accepting, being, breathing, non attachment, painless verbs not conjugated, sentences without punctuation the perfection of seeing all as it is, without the caffeine, sugar free, flat white, low octane, no adrenaline, without supplemental vitamins poetry without a pencil just paper and light until the paper blows away and what if there is no thinker to create it the non-thinking thinker poetically dies off leaving what?