Sometimes you get friends from little known quarters.
Sometimes those you have groomed prove unfaithful.
Poets are a funny lot. They may turn against you
too soon to believe.
Sometimes differences just melt.
Many times differences are sharp, unmitigated,
longstanding.
What do the poets seek?
Mundane will not satisfy them.
Sometimes mundane unfold in shades,
in multiple hues.
Nobody maligns a poet more
than another of his type!
So, what are poets, by the way?
They are from this earth,
or they are representatives of some other kingdom,
formless, shapeless,
skewed, sensitive,
in shadow war with God,
society,
in endless unrequited love!
