Then What Is Poetry?

I've studied much Philosophy and Art, I had advisors, felt pains and struggles, misery spring up like little geysirs. All sound and language, imagery was there for me to see, was shown by others openly it was the golden key. A mirror had been put in place presenting my own heart, reflected back at moderate pace deciphering MY art. What was impossible to do a stranger here presents: my innermost and ah, so true my soul's predicaments. Confusion leaves, not to return and loneliness abates, another mind, free to concern itself with secret states.