The Poet

I take what never can be taken,
Touch what cannot be;
I wake what never could awaken,
But for me.

I go where only winds are going,
Kiss what fades away;
I know a thing too strange for knowing,
I, the clay.

by Haniel Long

Comments (5)

Extraordinary. True poetic insight. Only very good poets can, This clay did.
A beautiful expression, love it!
Very nice poem. Enjoyed it.
a poem for metaphysical poets, lovely~
Nice poem about the Poet. I like it