The Teacher As The Poet
Ease of mind and constant rush,
And still the voices don’t stop.
Stagnation is a creative mind’s enemy,
as is cowardice.
We are our words,
our letters and symbols.
Intentions mean nothing when they fail,
Yet success is still a subjective term.
I am responsible for the quiet dawn
of these minds,
if only for a day.
What world do we live in now?
What world was it before?
And what shall it be?
This is not a journal entry,
Poetry is public record,
And to be used,
On what was “just” another day.