Value Of The Product Poem by Matt Johnson

Poets are without the funds for works that they enjoy
Though needing help they can not take assistants to employ
Though brilliant shining wordsmiths blow so greatly on the fire
The final treasured product is as valued as the mire

Trudging forth without the very basics others need
Forced by something deep within to plow but not to feed
Unyielding to the market forces to which all business must comply
When exhausting all resources there is fire yet within the eye

So thunder on we do if the lightening flash or not
Extolled by none or few as our names are now forgot
Some once wrote and now are gone as papers in the breeze
Yet the words perhaps are caught on the papers in the trees

And that is somehow enough for us