A poets masterpiece of art It pins the soul down like a dart And pouring out upon the sheet The words of thunder Sound; so deep There's no escape Not any way To pass it off Or glance away A whirlpool of emotions Drills a hole beyond the fear Where the damages are healed And the burdensome are beared For the Keepers of the Keys They can blow away the mind Or drown the heart completely In the tempest of a lie Or even grant the dreams Of flightless Far beyond the sea, The seed of hope, Of will to cope Until their grown wings Set them free Yet this we are Ourselves unworthy Of the burdens cast from Thee To raise the boiling hearts of man Above the peaks of mortal lands And move the souls That build up nations Birthing dreams into Creation Thus we're gifted; Thus we're cursed Immortalized For need; for thirst To pin ourselves within the pages By the scrawling sweat of ages So the keys we keep of language, Of the human need to feel, Of compassion, and of wisdom To discern that which is real Once laid into infinity A quest for every key Let the mage of curiosity Set the imagination free