Poetry

Poetry is neither broached nor desperately sought,
It often comes to me when I had least thought
Below my awareness, below my calm,
It shares its marvels with me and unfolds its mysteries
I am the earth, I provide it energy
Poetry is that cloud, thick, pure, divine and dark
It pours on me when i m parched
Long back in my heart I had stored moments
that I thought I had lost in vapor and air,
Now they come back to me  in drops of words,
the threads and knots of the rain song....
Its pitter patter is a symphony of words,
a musical outpouring on my body
leaving a melody refreshed with this bath