Poet In Transition

I am a poet in transition, who still has the plasma cover around him and yet can travel miles, Miles, until the chord pulls me back and shows me my Limits. But I am arrogant, and pretend to be bold, This boldness is feigned I am an ostrich trying to hide myself from predators... Yet, What makes one a poet? Is it the poet's emotions or objectivity? Is it memories of a love that never worked out or an endless love for the entire humanity? Tender regrets or great satisfaction of completing a poem? Or, Is it, Just words - right words placed in right places, each one chosen like a general chooses his Soldiers, each move made with the dexterity of a chess grandmaster, And then placed in the right slots to solve the puzzle that a poem is A poem is a solved puzzle that becomes only a piece in a bigger puzzle when the reader reads it. So, Why do call myself a 'poet in transition'? Because my writings (poems if they are) reveal more than what they hide... Unless it goes the other way around, it will always be like this: I will be poet in transition, Waiting for the metamorphoses to complete, to turn into a butterfly from a caterpiler The shell finally to be broken, But now my poems are just solved puzzles