"Who is a poet?"..
the question strikes not once, not twice but infinite times..!

When the sojourn of the fragile society,

tampers with the truth, blowing trumpets of vertiginous blizzards of fake emotions,

Then at an abyssal core of the darkest corner of the empyrean world, rises a voice!

The voice that is alluring like the evocative Geisha... dressed up in the woven charisma of the night!

Rises a plethora of suffocated sentiments,
decorated with the abashed gauche pains inflicted day and night by the so-called Samaritans.

Rises the surpassingly ruthless yet superior man of words and quill,
Rises a Poet!

When the drops of blood trickles down the curves of the mankind,

When the fairytales are taunted by the gruesome greens of the reality,

When the power of the righteousness is smudged by the tarnished rulers,

He who has the invincible sword,

The knight of the night,

Let's out his voice,

Which can seduce the nightingale's song,
Which can make or break the world!
You ask me, who is a poet?

Let me guide you to the dimensions of the cheval-glass!

When the light is refracted from the pyramid of self actualization,

When the truth graces your inner pallet,

When the veil of falsified splendors leaves your soul space,

You shall know by sight,

You shall see the Poet residing
all the while, beneath the shadows of your eyes.