Poets are the wordsmith born with golden quill.
Around universe, below sky, above earth they coil.
They embrace everything with innate imaginations
And ensue with some endearing amalgamations.
They inhale passion and exhale words and keep alive
This meditation they exercise all the while.
Words are their soul mates and feelings their ink.
They tirelessly compose lyrics for a unique sync.
Poets live in rhythm and imbibe rhymes.
They recluse all imbalances as soothing chimes.
Poets scribble their thoughts on the mirror of heart
Where life get reflected as beautiful portrait.
Poet writes and recites in a loop as daily indulgence
And poetry escape for a sweet blend in silence.
When a poet compose poetry in brimming worship
There poetry become God through divine courtship.
Wondering! When God would become poetry..
How would the entire vista get envisaged?
Would spring bloom as Eden on every flower
So butterflies and honey bees have eternal buffet?
Would Moon rays come down on the strings of night
to have eternal romantic ballet with ocean waves?
Would earth emit petrichor from its supple bosom
to sprinkle perfume on vast meadows with dewy love?
Would breeze sing Ballads of Shakespeare
for mountain peaks to enjoy serenity of nature?
Would rainbow woos sky to transpire into a canvas
to have the immortal sketches of Leonardo da Vinci?
Would all stones on earth crave and get carved
to be the pristine statuettes of Michelangelo?
Would passing clouds compose sonatas
that matches with Beethoven’s brilliance?
Pondering when God would become poetry!
What poet on this earth be called?
Would they be renamed as God Smith
who have written ancient scriptures with signet?
Or would they be the creations on the hands of Creator
who seamlessly erase all illusions of bifurcations
So life around appears and perceives like an amazing
Motion poetry on allusion laden God!
© Maaya Dev