The medium of the poet is language, and with language the poet shamelessly exploits his experiences. He may detect many an illusion, but is not strong enough to see the Grand Illusion. He remains fixated by happiness and suffering. He excels in the blurring of words and the fudging of reality. Again, this has its value, but not to the wise.
The wise see things hard and fast. Power over words, light, and sound, provide them no joy. The artful say "Art imitates life"; but I say unto you, this is nothing to be proud of! The wise are more concerned with life than imitating it.