Burn, poet, burn. In heat your flames disperse.
Seek, poet, seek. You'll find candescent verse.
Behold that steel—from raging heat it rose.
Behold that sky—on far how red it glows!
Both poets and the Sun have one great aim—
To generate new heat and radiant flame.
A house unwarmed is graveyard-stark and bare.
I loathe a lamp that spreads a frigid glare.
A heart that holds no heat is like a stone.
A song that's cold is just a dreary drone.
Where there's no heat no life comes to a head.
Where there's no warmth the finest words are dead.
A laugh that lacks in warmth, tho' high and clear,
Is like a cradle when no babe is near.
So, burn, you poet. When your soul's ablaze
Create, you poet, laws for future days.
Your verse, your love and steel are much the same—
They owe their very life to freedom's flame.
Your heart should be a hearth that, blazing, lights
And warms men's hearts, their very soul ignites.
A poet's words can soar as free as fire.
That brings life's breath to stones. They rouse, inspire.
So burn, poet, burn. You will not live in vain,
For love can't live unless your heart's not aflame!