I love to write poetry, but over time, I tire of my own bullshit. By "my bullshit" I mean my rants and remonstrances...over time it all seems...well...looping and pointless. However, the simple joy of creating the work is enough to warrant my continued indulgence. When I receive encouragement such as yours, it helps me to continue to write.

So thank you.

Difficult to decipher? "My Hour of Wealth", which was written long ago, reads like a cheesy childs poem to me now, but snatches of it still stir the meaning up in me.
"The Night and the Silent Water" however, has gone through many many drafts, and now bears little resemblence to the original poem. Looking at it now that I've posted it, I can see how it would be meaningless to anyone but myself. But that's what I love about poetry; projecting a deep personal feeling out into the abyss, and wondering if on some off chance, someone might understand you. Hell, I could write a poem about that, I love it so much.
Thank you for your feedback. I shall keep it in mind.