I think this is most fitting, a poem I wrote a number of years ago.....
Mere Words:
Mere Words cannot heal
The heart that is troubled
Nor can they restore
Lives that are broken
What can unmake the wounded?
Or balance the dark against the light?
Or bring the pieces to the whole?
The poet crafts nothing more than words
And has no rewards but his art
He is healer to the unknown,
The fulcrum of the soul.
His words work in ways unseen,
Their value never known,
But to move the heart,
And shape the soul,
In this, he is king.