I am not a poet

I am not a poet,
I have not experienced love,
or completely engulfing sadness,
nor can I see the everlasting glory of nature
I am not a poet,

The red hot flames of passion,
is something I have yet to encounter
or the experience of dancing butterflies
as the one you adore brushes up against you.
I do not have the right to speak of these things
I am not a poet

I have yet to choke on the black and complete despair
of losing someone valuable to yourself
or the loss of ones self
I have no right to speak of this either
I am not a poet

I cannot see with these tired eyes,
the beauty of a fresh sheet of snow,
glittering in the moon light
as if the sky had dropped diamonds and not crystallized water,
nor the power the river cutting under me
slicing through and pushing through
even the biggest mountains,
I am not worthy to tell these amazing tales of nature
I am not a poet

Even though the sun shines,
people love,
people cry,
and God's wonderful creations
are all around us
with these eyes
and my frozen heart,
I am numb to them
I am not a poet