That which words cannot express. That which lies unsaid in the words of the poet. That space between a poet’s lines, which fires your imagination beyond words. That which creates a yearning beyond language. That’s true poetry.

Unfortunately very few read poetry and only a handful understand it. I see poetry in my morning tea, in my cigarettes, in my writing, in the mundane chores and also in Keats, Shelley and Tagore.

Dreams lie shattered,

Till I dream a new one,

May be some a bit cracked

Till I see a new morning sun.