What is the true definition of poetry? In Greek, the word “poiesis” from which we get “poetry” means “making.” In my mind’s eye, I can picture an ancient Greek working in his backyard and saying, “ποιέω (poiéō), I make.”
But why would the ancient Greeks use the same word for making pottery and for making poetry? I guess because they felt that it was intrinsically the same process. To make a poem, you must align yourself with God. You can’t speak anything truly worth hearing until you transcend your humanity and receive words from above.
To make a good pot, you must do the same. You can’t shape a vessel worth beholding until you align yourself with the divine. Sure, you can craft something by your own effort, but it won’t be a pot worth keeping. If you appreciate the beauty of ancient pottery, you know exactly what I mean.
Poetry is how you produce anything. To produce a moving metaphor one must receive the gift of speech from Mercury himself. To craft a cup, one must be in touch with the God who makes our cup overflow. All true things are born from this spiritual communion with the invisible.
When we separate production from poetry, we are not moved by what we do anymore. We can no longer make anything worth having.
Flipping a tire is pure poiesis—or not—depending on what’s going on in my mind. This wheel I am flipping is more than a mechanism; it moves me not just horizontally from point A to point B but also vertically—from the ordinary to the extraordinary— if it has proper alignment (both literally and metaphorically).
Poetry as pure making occurs when we transcend the moment in time and commune with the invisible Spirit in what we do. This point in time becomes electrified—with the magic of Zeus himself.
In spiritual terms, Zeus is salvaged time. His mother Rhea saved him from being swallowed by his father Cronus—Father Time. By escaping chronological time, Zeus became timeless. He represents those moments we rescue from being consumed by time. These moments become charged—alive with poetry.
That’s why Zeus’s signature weapon is the lightning bolt. To transcend time is to be electrified. You’ve touched divine electricity; you’re moved by an invisible current. Poetry happens when we break through time and infuse the task at hand with that divine spark.
At this moment, true magic happens. It begins with a sparkle in your eyes and an electrifying touch of your hands, moved by the invisible divine currents. Like Zeus, you become king—you reign over what you do. You are a poet. A creator of worlds. A maker.
Then, everything you do begins to sparkle as well. Whether you are baking cakes, writing code, or teaching kids — you become a conduit of divine electricity and a mover of all things.
Let’s create something together. Contact me today!
