The evil night was dark outside,
Disturbed I walked towards the mirror,
Stood infront it with dazzling eyes,
And the flickering candle flame added light....
Taken aback was I,looking at the blurred image,
When I noticed my eyes drowned in pain,
Could vividly get the inside picture,
Of everything that they witnessed....
The lucid pen that my thin fingers hold,
How can it write on a topic so very well??
To this query of mine,replied the night,
"Your pen writes from the ink of your heart"....
To the mirror,looking still,I asked my heart,
"Where from you get such immense feel"??
Replied then my heart with a soft voice,
"From your eyes that observe things very deep"....
Then I stared at the candle's burning flame,
And thought deep about the blurred image,
Which it did cast on the mirror eyes,
Then I got the answer to my inside query..
"Am I really a poet"?? Let my poems say.....
__ABHISHEK RATH
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