So to conclude this matter, poets come from the deer prancing through the meadow, or the flower blooming in the field. Though many flowers may be blooming with it, there is no telling which of them will be picked. Poets can come from the sky, or even from the dust. If you climb a tall and wise tree, or look up at the stars on a clear night, then you will find a poet.
As you gaze upon the quiet girl carrying a notebook, you can trace the poet in her eyes. That is, if you look close enough. If you look deep enough. Look where you least expect it, and where you knew all along. The essence and origin of a poet lie in the same place – the heart.