What does it take to make great poetry? From my vantage point, as the Muse of all muses, I look down upon the human race. I, Sophia, peer into their hearts and minds. From my location, I see great shafts of energy reaching up like fountains of earnest rapaciousness. These geysers spray across the heavens, laden with angst and hope and dreams of love. Propelled by hearts full of strong desire and powerful emotion, these energies coalesce in the heavens, and to these energies I stretch forth my arms, bringing them to my bosom, encompassing them.

Parts of me break off as the minds of poets touch my heart. Sadness manifests as feathers spilling from my heart, and they flutter down, traveling the route of energy to the sad poet in Asia. Lust and passion roils within, and I feel the pulse of sexual tension from Southern California. My heart drips molten passion which fills the canal, flowing back toward that poet's energy, and inspiration pours from me into that poet until she explodes with an orgasmic array of words.

All these words, ranging from angst and sadness, anger and passion, will find place in readers' minds. Not because of the poets and not because of me, but because of the transmutation process that embeds itself into the heart of the poet. In that moment of time, we become one. And as I was conceived when humankind first wrote on cave walls, when languages and pictographs came into being, so I am continually created daily in the words of those most dear to my heart: the poets.

Bless the poets for they feed my voice.