Inception



I should be a Poet,
I had thought that day...
What beautiful verse had I read,
I cannot remember...
Must have been William Wordsworth,
or was it Frost...
On a second thought I imagine,
It was She....

Blissful Night or some other tag,
I don't really recollect the phrases...
I only remember the rhythm,
music for the first time I read that day...
The cupids arrow had struck Gold,
Love at first sight....
"Words"
I was enthralled...

I had never experienced more pleasure,
in the plunge...
The ocean of words,
like a shimmering tiara,
in the afterglow of my newly found love...
Even the detestable cult of flattery,
finding innumerable synonyms in my dictionary...
Reflections in my memory suggest,
i wanted to describe my inspirer,
in the nascent verses of mine...

Am i trying to describe,
the birth of the poet in me...
or am I trying to hide,
the identity of she,
imprisoned in me....
I suddenly shudder....
These questions, 
that become my boundaries,
imaginations curbed,
Its only my words that break
the tethering ropes, 
my love, my words....

Was it you I was in love with,
Or was it your words...
The princess of conspiracy,
I decode the crypt, at last....

My stories I leave unfinished,
for reasons thus...
I'm yet not a poet,
I write random words...
Falling drops of paint on the canvas
They don't Yet create a pattern,
Just reflections,like a mirror......

-Ashk

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