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The Poet

His mind sends out its tentacles of thought to grasp the empty hulls of words that lie motionless and corpse-like at his feet. Then each thought pours itself into a word until each word becomes alive with meaning Words that were mere husks and hulls before, now are pregnant with the see of life; and there beneath the sunlight of his art and watered by the moisture of his tears, t he seeds of life unfold in flowers of song.