It is not true poets remember
Their poetry into oblivion
Poetry inspires just once
Like a night of wild passion
The morning does not carry
The what and when and who
So too is poetry, it blesses one and leaves
It is not true a poet
Creates, develops rhythm
It was never my creation
I am just nimitham
I know not who and why did
Create and send it to me
It is true though a poet
Is only but a mirror
And reflects what is pristine
In and around his soul
