The Worshipper
Love,sadness, happiness and anger
All moods are mixed with one another
Ever do we think how one heart
Anchored all the emotions in it's tanker
How our faces change with our mood
How a poetry matches with our roots
How can a pen be so divined
Oh how can it paint our mind.
What's good in death's fate
How to trust a devil's faith
All questions answered by none other than ourselves
By the imagination we gained
Oh Poetry a gift to the kind
The richest treasure one can find
Which is so bright
That it can make one go blind
I am none other than a worshipper of this art
Embarked upon carving it on my heart.
My hands the cart
Which wants to store each and every line
Of its beautiful design
And preserve it just like fine old wine
And never let it fade away from the mankind.
- Aandaleeb Mukherjee
©aandaleeb
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