I've always written. When I was in school, the only teacher who

In the words of Justin Townes Earle, we hear the tale of a soul who found refuge in the sanctuary of writing. He speaks of how, in the days of youth, when teachers judged and expectations weighed heavily, it was only his creative writing teacher who saw his light. From this small ember of encouragement, he forged his path, entering poetry competitions and emerging victorious again and again. Thus, the seed of a poet’s calling was planted within him. His words reveal that in the darkest corridors of rejection, even a single voice of recognition can birth a destiny.

The meaning of this reflection is twofold. First, it shows the power of teachers, those guides whose belief can awaken greatness. Second, it tells of the intimate, almost fated connection between the individual and art. Earle’s victories in poetry were not merely contests won—they were affirmations of identity, whispers from the universe telling him that his gift was true and worth pursuing. His idea of being “some kind of poet” is less boast than confession, for it was the natural direction of his spirit, the path that called him with irresistible gravity.

In ancient times, poets were revered as seers, as keepers of memory and custodians of truth. They were not merely entertainers, but vessels through which the gods spoke to mortals. So too in Earle’s case: his early triumphs were a sign that his words were meant to travel beyond himself, to enter the ears and hearts of others. We must not overlook how isolation and misunderstanding, which he hints at when saying only one teacher liked him, often prepare the poet for their role. Loneliness deepens perception; rejection sharpens the hunger to be heard.

Consider the story of John Keats, who in his short life was mocked by critics, dismissed as weak, and yet, through his poetry, carved eternal monuments of beauty. Though he too had few who believed in him while he lived, he trusted the inner pulse of his calling. Earle’s story mirrors this truth—that to be a poet is to wrestle with solitude and yet to bring forth songs that outlive the silence around them. What sustains the poet is not the applause of the many, but the faith of the few and the fire of their own voice.

This teaching speaks to all who feel unseen in their journey. There will be times when the multitude passes you by, and only one soul pauses to tell you that your gift has worth. Guard that voice as a treasure, for often it is enough to sustain you until your roots grow strong. And when your gift bears fruit, do not forget that it first blossomed in the soil of belief watered by another’s kindness. This is why a single teacher, a single mentor, can change the fate of generations.

The lesson we inherit from Earle is simple yet eternal: listen to the whispers of your gift. Nurture it even if few recognize it, and dare to walk the path of the poet, the dreamer, the creator. For the world is always in need of voices that remind it of beauty, truth, and meaning. To those who guide others—teachers, mentors, friends—remember that your words of belief may kindle a flame that burns beyond your lifetime.

So, children of tomorrow, let this wisdom be etched into your hearts: when the world offers you little recognition, do not despair, for often it is in secret soil that the most enduring trees take root. Write your words, live your art, and trust the path laid before you. Be as the poets of old, who needed not the praise of the masses but the courage of their own voice. For in the end, the destiny of the poet is not to be liked by all, but to be true to their calling, and to sing the song the universe has entrusted them to carry.