What happens when great poets die?

What happens when  Great Poets die?

Well, the wise man echoes the words of my bourgeois teacher, who said 
a part of this world dies with them. 

One minute silence.

Ah, fools.

You?

 Me? 
I try digging up their poetry and I try reading them.
And more than often I feel, 
I discover or reinvent why they are called great, 
no intellectual connotations mind it, 
in case you’re wondering, 
it’s just that
Poetry often like a powerful magnet sucks out those pejorative iron fillings that we store within us 
and heals us, 
in a way we never thought was possible. 

So poetry is therapeutic, just like many other things in life, one must say.  
And because it nurtures emotions and feelings, 
it’s a something we should value in this world.  

But emotions are second rated. 

Hence, the need.


Poetry is a feeling.
A beautiful feeling.

And the poet?
The bearer of poetry. 

So back to the original question, what happens when  great poets die?

 Ah, well great poets never die, because great poetry never dies.

It etches on, metamorphoses, transgresses, regresses but lingers on
till the very ends of the Earth, 
in the hearts of the chosen few.