Poetry, in all essence is the final solace. Poetry is a writer’s final view of life before he either plunges headfirst into the dark valley of his own doubts, or is lifted on angelic wings to a far better place high in the clouds. As a poet, I am not challenged, I’am just noting down the subtle changes in my psyche and hoping that my drifting is acknowledged and even ‘admired’ by an understanding audience.
In poetry, lies the last effort for greatness.
Long before I discovered my silly infatuation with rhymes, I understood that I’am walking a well-trod path, unravelling a map that I hoped would lead to my innermost self. However, poetry isn’t designed for that- it’s a medium to celebrate, the joys of life and the failures. In the delicate embrace of entwining words, hope finds a happy roost.
And in her search, I walk still…