Is a poet still a poet
If they do not write?

A journal gathering dust,
But a yearning to write.
Am I still a poet
Without my inner light?

It's terribly poetic how time can break down things in the most beautiful of ways.

so you may explore life
in your own
questions are boiling
in your mind
wondering where to go?
the path that you really want
but perhaps
have you ever ask yourself
what do you really want in life?
does that “why” is the one calling you?
questing out life
giving out so many clues,
doing it perfectly and fine
but what does your spirit
leading you to be?
that one direction that will make you happy
and contented with life.

There
Are thousands of ways
To feel better
In touch difficult times

But we fail
To explore the easiest one
That is:

Keep doing finer
Correcting the blunders.

I acknowledge
I'm not Kabir,
Nor Mir nor Eliot,

Still my verses
Aren't less important than kohinoor.

You value or devalue them
I am not bothered a bit.

My pen is a river
Flowing on papers.