Rumi visits me sometimes and whispers in my ears.
Gibran too bumps into me often and paints life through my eyes.
Tagore calls in at times and composes mystical symphony.
Tulsidas comes over to recite the greatest poetry ever told.
They all come randomly, and take me over.
They don’t knock but knock me over.
They mesmerize me and leave me gasping.
They show me the real me and leave me yearning.
I go there often now
And wait for them to come.
But now they don’t come to me,
they come through me.