I was never a poet

I was never a poet,
They made me one
Write I couldn’t, they made me to !
I know it’s the blessings of Mata Pita Guru, the Three
What more blessings could I ask for !

It’s play of the elements, all the five
Giving a new sense, that’s six !
To not miss the rainbow, in all its hues of seven
To garner the grace from directions that’s eight !
Nothing of mine, all belongs to the
Celestial Nine
Short of perfection and the perfect ten !

Yet it’s a blessing that’s bestowed by the Mother
With the milk and milieu she provided unconditional !

Everyday I am born new
Naked and naive;
Clothed in my past, until I cast !

I was never a poet
I was made one…

Whispers of a Wanderer