"Daddy, what's a poet?" asked the youngster of his Pap

The man looked down, then motioned and said "Come sit on my lap
There used to be these people who saw things most could not see
They used their words to reach into the hearts of you and me
And, often, when we read the words that they'd torn from their soul,
We, too, could feel what they felt and that somehow made us whole.
Perhaps but for a moment, still, the heartswell lingered on
And, sometimes, in our darkest night the poet showed us dawn.
So, now you know what poets were and why they are no more.
They dealt in truth and beauty, but it's power we adore."

"I understand" the child said, "I'm glad you told me, Dad.
But, I don't feel any smarter. Somehow, I just feel ---- sad."