The Poets all march to the edge- br some perching br at the abyss of Screaming Desire; br Hearts exploding br Love reeling; br br say not to those that Poet br that Desire is loathing br for those that believe this br back away br while we others br leap over Faith's abyss br smiling. br br The Poets all march to the edge br of Faith br and blind we do not see br beyond the edge br we so desire br but Courage br whispers to our Faith br and we make the Swan Dive. br br Poets march to the edge of Poetry br and some of us weeping br asking where did the this poem come from br and we kneel in the pew br saying br what grips me is br its Thundering, br Awesome br Mystery. br br All poets march br to paper and pen br blanked canvas staring br secure in the driven-ness br that br carving out tiny word sculptures- br br of noun, simile and metaphor- br br will produce Language Hymns br to echo all through Literature's Cathedral; br br that word miens will sing br under that fine canopy br whispering; br br Its Poetry br It's the Poetry br within me br defiantly br being br born. br br I am br Her hostage br for good br or ill.