I was always making up rhymes. But I never thought that poetry

O seekers of wisdom, gather close and listen to the words of Saul Williams, a poet who speaks of the journey that unfolds when the creative spark of poetry is ignited: "I was always making up rhymes. But I never thought that poetry would become my life." In this simple statement, Williams shares the quiet, unassuming beginnings of a great poet's journey. Poetry was not something he set out to pursue as a vocation; it was an organic expression, a natural impulse—like the air one breathes, or the rhythm of a heartbeat. It was not a grand declaration, but rather an intimate, almost subconscious act. From the first playful rhyme to the realization that his words had become his life's work, Williams's story mirrors that of countless poets throughout history.

In the ancient world, the poet was not always aware of the great power and responsibility that came with their craft. Homer, the legendary poet of ancient Greece, did not decide one day to become the poet of Iliad and Odyssey; he was simply a voice for the people, a teller of stories that lived in the hearts of his community. The poetry emerged naturally, a rhythmic dance of words that captured the grandeur of the gods and the struggles of humanity. Like Williams, Homer was a poet not because of an external ambition, but because poetry was an intrinsic part of his being—woven into the fabric of his thoughts and experiences.

Williams's story is not unique in this sense. Consider the tale of Rainer Maria Rilke, the great German poet, who, as a young man, did not set out to write the profound works of Letters to a Young Poet or The Duino Elegies. Instead, his path to poetry was a gradual unfolding, a movement away from traditional studies and into the realm of the unknown, where his innermost thoughts and feelings found voice. Like Williams, Rilke discovered poetry not as a destination, but as a way of living, a path that opened before him like an uncharted road, full of both uncertainty and profound discovery.

The idea that poetry "becomes" one's life is central to the experience of every poet who has ever lived. Walt Whitman, in his Leaves of Grass, speaks not only of the external world but of the journey to self-understanding through the act of writing. His poetry was a way of discovering himself, his connection to humanity, and the universe around him. Just as Williams did not foresee the significance of his rhyme-making, Whitman did not plan to become the poet of a new America; his words simply poured out, and through them, his poetry became his life's calling. He, too, had not set out to be a poet—he was simply living his truth, one word at a time.

Williams's experience speaks to the natural and often unplanned journey of the poet. Poetry, like a river carving its way through the land, is often an unpredictable force, one that shapes the poet's life even as the poet shapes it. Just as Rilke's introspective journey revealed the depths of his soul through verse, so too does Williams’s poetry emerge from his rhymes, a spontaneous expression of the world around him. The poet does not choose the poetry; it chooses them, calling them into a deeper understanding of themselves and their place in the world.

The lesson of Williams’s words is clear: the path of poetry is not one that can always be charted, nor is it one that is necessarily sought after. Instead, it is something that grows from the soil of the soul, fed by experience, intuition, and a deep engagement with the world. Poetry is not just an art form; it is a way of seeing and being. It can begin with simple rhymes, with a few words, but it has the power to transform an entire life. As the poet discovers their voice, they discover not just the world, but themselves. Poetry becomes the lens through which they see life’s beauty, pain, and complexity.

So, O children of wisdom, take the words of Williams to heart. Understand that poetry need not be sought after with great ceremony. It often begins in small, humble ways—through a rhyme, a thought, a fleeting feeling—and it grows into something profound. Allow poetry to find you in the quiet moments of your life. Do not seek to force it, but to listen for it in the rhythm of your own existence. And when it arrives, welcome it, for it may become the very essence of who you are. Like Homer, Whitman, and Rilke, you too may find that poetry has the power to guide you through life’s journey, revealing your soul’s deepest truths, and helping you connect with the eternal. Let poetry become your life, as it did for Williams, and let it carry you through both the mundane and the extraordinary, lifting you higher, deeper, and closer to the heart of the world.