The poets are the ones who go mMAadD. 

They, in their crowded wordings, 
     place miiiiiiiiiiles into minutes.

In this crystallizing compaction, 
Aeons squeeze into seconds.

     The poets mind, pressing infinities
                       into miniatures
                            stretches.

Seeing MOUNTAINS, 
          in small blue pebbles.  

"The Poets"
The Carnival of the Soul, Jean Llanomirth