Return. Make love to every poem again.
Give each more fond caresses with your pen!
Fondle every spot you see you’ve missed,
And don’t leave till that spot has been well kissed.
When that beloved starts to cry for more,
Don’t stint her. She is not a one-night whore.
She breathes a sacred life borne of your breath
And will escort you, even beyond death.
Time is a slave to one who works at art
In likeness of the wisdom of the heart,
Till each word sings a chorus with the whole
And bears the full imprinting of your soul.
Your poems are Love’s Body—each requires
Full alchemy of all your vital fires.
Max Reif
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/manifesto-on-the-craft-of-poetry/
