It does not matter how eloquently or expressively a toilet is described, it remains a toilet. While it may be portrayed with words meant to strike emotion in the heart it can only reach a certain depth of poetry because of the content. Similarly, I have read some excellent poems about trees that have somehow stirred up less longing in my heart than the crappiest verse about the cross of Christ.
How much better it is when a master painter brings the soul to worship with words that cut straight through bone and marrow to the heart? I have seen it, I have heard it.
And if you all you see on the horizon is trite verse or exquisite wastepaper, do not give up. There are diamonds in the rough; there is a fountain in the desert. The source is the ultimate Poet, the Giver of Life. He is the only one who has every come up with anything original to say and when He talks all eternity listens.
We hear The echoes of His voice in every second. Train yourself to sing along.
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