I would let my mind,
As such, not to leave sense
The aptitudes twirling it, with
The blood of excellence dense

About to, throw-out all stuff
Not myths, but treasure of words
The instances, dreams bow down
May I recall, that pleasure of words

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In the silence of soul, I
Lay my mind down to stretch
The purpose, to gain, I have
Under world’s vigil, let’s fetch

There are certain so-called tail-enders
Faming themselves as big name
The mark, distant as Marathon
‘Shall they cross’, their expression claim

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MY BELOVED POET

They are the heads with
Intense of lunacy in mind
Whether they could be genius, or
Proving as one of a kind

They are not drowsy,
From daydream, not apart
Familiar about their words,
Lead them to a childish start

Of being the sign of eccentricity,
Their lunacy could be the reason
The one way path of mind, putting
Them in the knowledge prison

Chatters of world, still unknown
And vanishing under roof of goals
Their milestones in life, then
Entitle them as the immortal souls

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