def: PO·E·SY

Poetry asks a lot of questions

Makes few definitive statements

Delves into a multitude of perspectives

And tends to provide zero answers

Poetry is a process, a ritual

of reflection and boundless purging

A pathway to self healing, soul searching

A noble attempt at illumination

Writing isn’t inherent or instinctual

Even if we feel like it comes naturally

Poetry is a skill, a practice, an artform

A discipline in refining the chaos of reason

Poetry is a secret, a sneak-peek into the mind

It lays the heart open on the chopping block

Watching it beat, and drawing a picture of obscurity

To call itself a bold, unprecedented master of the arts

Poetry is a contradiction, both virtue and vice

Woven by the laureate and the common man alike

Poetry lives and dies by human existence, by being

Tethered to the struggles and victories of mankind