Question:

A poem can be fine, capture time, enclose a space, speak a place, make mention of the hearts pace, lay wide the nature of a mammal made rat race; secrets of the soul a rhyme can spill, whisper words both good and have the eye swallow the bitterest of pill, be a seed lain to germinate again and again, an ever flourishing plant for the soul windowsill, a purge or nothing more than a skill, a beacon, a ruination, a burning brand of light, a cessation, a bringer of storm and to any storm staunch, a releasing, a holding tight, a hand where there are none to hand, to band all we thinking fools.

Are we The Culls tools?