The poet’s heart…
The Poet’s heart…
The poet paint words to paper, to create visions of the adventures we must do and done, he write the story of his great loves and he write of the misery of war.
If the poet don’t write, if the writers don’t create wonderful books. The men and women who lived, who danced upon the beautiful earth and who fought in so many war. And didn’t return to their home.
They will be forgotten.
We need the artist to create painting that leave places and people faces. Forever to be seen and to create. Poetry for our eyes.
We need the musicians to create song to make the heart and the mind come alive.
The artist create everlasting stories to outlive time and people lives. Each painting, a glimpse of beautiful face, time forgotten and the ancients cities.
We need the song-birds, the singers who allow us to fall into their songs. Allowing us to dance and allowed us to wander to better places, sometimes ugly places.
And we must remember the poets. Who bleed to paper and they hope, someone may read.
The old poet told the quiet people at the Monterey poetry reading, listening to his words. Please create, please dance as often as you can and sing songs to the Pacific.
No glory in crying for things lost and gone. Great men, great women laugh at death and they ask for more. They know we have today. Make this days your best day my friends.
Coyote