As I was reading through Dr.Rudhran's post in his blog on the same title of this post, I could not stop from adding a comment, reflecting his thoughts in my words as a Poet.... I thought it deserves a place in my blog too.... as I admire the artist in the psychiatrist who is difficult to understand by ordinary intellect....Dear Friend, here are few lines for you!
A writer's mind is a clear slate
Like the child who began to write
The painter's brush is a little mouse
That runs as it finds its ruins unknown
We stumble upon our past and ponder about future
Disdain in one's preludes of the present
In the depths of silence, we find our words
In the midst of grumbling crowds, we find intimate silence
Only an artist in you can discover the fathoms
The fathoms of the inner oceans that divulge
Towards an incessant thoughts and unwinding tears
The tear is not of sadness in mind
But of the heart that runs behind
The past, that is never on my own task
Yet, I know I can run behind years of my life
In solitude and grace that I admire of myself
As thoughtscapes find no new mantles of peace
The landscapes around look like nothing but deserts
The deserts of sand flown in life of thoughts
The feelings of inner self that never found
Yet, in the rejoicing of being a nurturing mind
There is an essence of having being born
Just like the little child out of mother's womb
You write your memoir just for yourself
And not for the worlds to debate on
For it’s the passionate web of your life's events
That rekindles the fantasies of your inner self
Moments that soar from nowhere to all around
That makes you feel elated and regret all
Yet it is just between you and your past
That the gamble of lives travelling again in thoughts
There is no prerogative that drives to rest
For in it, you discover yourself in a quest
The quest is to find the meaning of life
Just yours, by all means, just your thoughts!!!
