poetry not prose

For you see, dear man, I am cosmic. No prosaic earth, fluid water, raging fire for me. Air, infinite air my mainstay. Since birth; since even in the womb, turned over by my mama to the Air God as first born, an offering to the Cosmos, Who has responded in kind. Poetry, my dear man, poetry! Only poetry can venture into such realms. Give me not stultifying prose! It reaches only so far then falls helpless to the dirt. Mythopoesis my realm, more real, more true than any schematic ratio logic. So there it is, and how it is, and shall ever be. Head larger than the earth, reverberating with eternity.