Muse?

Art thou my muse?

Art thou my inspirer?

With the very thought of yours

My pen runs with a unique vigour,

Oozing out liquid music, mixed

With the sorrows and joys of my heart.

Thy thought brings upon me certain

Poetic spirit, not to be found otherwise,

And turns me into a lunatic,

Blessing me with the divine ability to

Perceive things differently.

The veil of dullness and monotony

Is silently removed by the touch of

Your magic wand, which brings

Spring rains of rejuvenation

And embalms my parched soul,

Returning the former mirth and joy.

But this momentary bliss soon

Gets lost in a dark cavern of emptiness,

Where fear and gloom dwells, conspire

To taunt me with myriad pains.

But I keep firm, letting the torment hide

Within me, not letting them realize

And wait for that divine inspiration and thought

That fills the firmament of my mind

With vibrant colours of hope and exhilaration,

And in that ecstasy, forget all the agony,

Successfully encountering life’s tyranny…