Where else does a mind play the drum
While the pen dances to the rhythm
With painted ideas gushing out therefrom
While the soul pictures the theme?

Where else does the pen and paper
Unite and fight conquerors wars?
In places guns could only look from afar
As if staring at the galaxy of stars?

Where else are words made to bow
Walk, run, or stand on their toes
Like a spell from an ancient vow
Casted to restore the friendship of avowed foes?

In the heart of a poet I see
A gold mine of endless ideas
That comes flowing like tides of the sea
Powerful enough to invoke laughter or tears.

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