THE POET

Many a journey I've made
Long and hard, to places
Far off and strange
Much of suffering and pain
I've seen
Like the journey of a honey bee
To serve the Venus of the Verse
What deprivations I've had
Ah, the penance that I did
To purge myself of all dross
To cleanse and purify
And lift myself up to heaven
So that my soul may be a lyre
For the music of heaven to play on
But the sweet honey of my truth
Is poisoned by the foul lips
Of vain and petty minds
That understand nothing
Only I know how I endure.