I Am A Poet.

Up there on that hill There’s a thatched house with eves I know; there he lives. Near the door there is a sill, Sat whole night talking with stars, Nay; sorry, hope with heaven Without any break, full seven Pigeons sleep fearlessly, Room inside remained dark, Outside a burning boom, Viewers say he lies over the house. I have seen his unmoved eyes Over the skies! During the day Pigeons with gay Dance and sing round the sill Thousands of pigeon on that hill Live in that house No rain rained ever upon him Water in the pitcher always up to brim A miracle of miasma Blurs eyes, a charisma What you see that may be a maze Unseen is seen through the haze Pangs of lost vision we face Blindness can’t lose the vision Vision is lost humanity dies What is the use of the eyes? If it can’t perceive, can’t realize///