Mind Of A Poet

While most of humanity,
Are cutting out ruthlessly,
Whole areas of perception,
Impoverishing themselves mentally,
The poet retains the faculty,
To be delighted suddenly,
By the sheer reality,
Of the world 'out there',
The poet has the ability,
To concentrate on nothing,
And allow their mind,
To sink into a state of passivity,
Where the power of intellection,
Is suspended fully,
The poets imagination,
Craves to be released,
To take wings,
And escape the mere present moment,
Soaring away,
To other times and places,
If denied this holiday,
From everyday triviality,
The form of their creativity,
Will be resentment,
Burning increasingly,
Against the life that imprisons them.