A wise person 
once gave me this advice:
Never throw a word away.
Even if neglected, gathering dust on a shelf,
at any moment it might become
exactly what you want to say.
When I finish writing a poem,
I bury it in a quiet place
with the epitaph,
“If you are reading this,
you are the first to understand.”
Poets are time travelers, scattering
their secrets across the centuries. 
Do not be surprised if you find me on the floor;
I tell you the whole world is my bed,
and everyone is in my bedroom.
My body is just a footnote,
and before you resume the ritual of living,
bury me along with my words. 
 Leonard Bernstein
 Wallace Stevens, “A Postcard from the Volcano” from Collected Poems