Just felt the urge to write,
Don't know whether it's wrong or right.
So I picked my notebook and my pen,
And entered my favourite poetic den.
It has become a kind of a weekly ritual,
Don't know about others but for me it has become usual.
To express unknown, unheard emotions - it has become the means,
The instrument that helps me to reveal to myself, my deepest dreams.
Sometimes I ain't even aware of the idea I would write about,
But as I enter the world of poetry, it just comes round.
The ideas, thoughts, beliefs, feelings - begin to form in my mind,
And I now just need words to express the emotions that a moment ago were so difficult to find.
I guess that's the magic of poetry,
It helps you solve your own mystery.
Because when life seems a tempest of confusions,
It makes you trust and believe your intuitions.
It is my means of joy and relaxation; happiness and strength,
Makes me see hope and light when despair and darkness seem not to end.
Enables me to appreciate even the beauty of the storm, the silence of the night.
Erupts sparks of hope in my heart even when it's lamp is devoid,
Of a single drop of oil.
Such is the power of this art, such is the beauty it grants to a plain word.
So the medium through which I understand myself best is poetry among all means in this wide world,
Gives a different majesty to the sun, a mystic calmness to the moon,
Makes me see wonders even in the tiny grain of the sand dune.
YOU ARE READING
MYSTERY OF POETRY
شِعرRight from the depths of Literature, I bring you this gift of poetry, Wherein each word has a deeper meaning, an unsolved mystery, Wherein even a line can convey tons of long forgotten history, Because the best way I can express myself is by t...
