On poetry

Forth comes the poetry,
Doe'th it naught.

For what purpose,
comes the poetry.

A new found prayer,
a thought,
or a hope, for the future.

Wriggleing forth,  on upward.

To bar it now,
unable or unwilling.

I am.

But share it I must,
endure it you might.

The way then is thus,
to bless us ...

Both.