When hungry for a meeting
with the Muse,
did you ever think
of hacking down a reed,
and dipping it in ochre
mixed with soot, scratching it
on parchment skins of goat?
Poet, Pick up your pen!

Do you think your words
would then
be more profound,
if created with the tools
from hallowed ground?
Do you know the power
that flows within?
Poet, Pick up your pen!

Lead others on a path
they have not seen before,
What more could be the dream
of frozen child, of poet, and of sage,
What battles rage within
that turn you
from your destiny?
Poet, pick up your pen!

What treasure do you hold
in greater measure
than the gift bestowed,
apparently at birth,
What other use of time
could ever amplify
your final worth?

Poet, Pick up your pen!
The words will flow
with new found freedom,
The soul will soar,
the mind transcend.
Poet, Pick up your pen!

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