You’re right;

Poetry is obscure.

And a poet must wrestle 

A cloud

Into Clarity.

Not that the poet

Possesses 

Clarity.

Clarity is divine light,

Lent in metaphor and allusion,

To blind eyes 

That are willing to see 

And then –

Light-soaked –  

Say.

Poets are themselves 

Clouds wrestled into Clarity.