Author: Ana Daksina

A poet is the strangest sort of soul You in this life may e'er expect to meet More broken even while more truly whole, Innocently intending well, more sweet Than any but a five year old should be Unfit to meet a callused world's demand Or to behave aught expediently — All grace in flight; an albatross on land Do not the all too common error make Do not fall into the too easy trap Avoid the fatal egoic mistake Imagining that poet be a sap Powerful spirits, classic and antique, Give voice when poets ope their mouths to speak