Who will deny me the spoils of poetry?

Who will deny me the spoils of poetry?


Who will deny me access
Into the realm of poetry,
Where beauty is bountiful,
And where trees droop,
With the riches of inspiration?

Who will deny me comfort
In the rapture of words,
When tears run dry, when shadows lengthen
And when the pitiful solitude of man
Is all that remains?


No!
Not even death, with its sudden selfish grip
Can tear away the richest of arts
For poetry is not of this world
And it cannot, be ensnared in mortal death.
It is eternal and immutable,
A secure shelter for the past, present
And the future
.
So I am not afraid,
For my rewards will live on
Till the end of time.

Who will deny me the spoils of poetry?
I challenge anyone to try.