The poet
might be hated
by some or many
but he will not
go into exile
or be silenced--
none could suppress
his thought
even if each
should unsettle
or provoke

for the world
is an empty vessel
a tightening rope
around the neck
a hidden dagger
ready for the throat

man is born free
but never so
he lives in
perpetual slavery
hit in the face
wherever he does go-

outside
is the power
a steel-clad prison
a shark-mouthed monster

but words
do not die
truth
does not perish
time will but revive
the beautiful
the sublime
the pure
that transcends time

as the dark descends
and the last ray
of day is gone
a free-willed poet
will once again
be born