Come hither! Come hither! Let the autumn leaves whither, or let the flowers of spring bloom, or let the world brim with gloom. Yet, you come hither! Be it a raging tempest, or the roughest of tides, there’s no such tranquil as a pen drop silence. The past or its diabolic sting or the pangs of a wounded wing, the merry of a mother post labour or that grateful smile from your neighbour; every ounce of it, a verse can take. Multitudes more than that, a verse can give. A part of the bigger paradox is all that poetry is. The deeper you go, the higher you reach. Somewhere, treading over infinity, shall you find the summit elegantly lurking in the abyss. Only if your shovel was a pen, shall you dig deeper. Stop not at the springs your way, for deeper inside, lies the core. Let the ink fill empty parchments, let its trail fill empty souls. #WorldPoetryDay Pen drop silence!
