From the Eye of a Kaleidoscope.

Little, occasional words find their homes in insecure sentences. An obvious  lack of brilliance. Yet, words tumble out with the humble aspiration of kissing divinity. Like the incessant breathing, in joy and sorrow alike, And therefore I must keep writing.   May be I m  hungry ,for fame and glory hence I must keep writing. Perhaps ,Swallow pain from a distance and ruminate. See pathos in naked eyes  and romanticize. Which makes my soul burps , that I must keep Writing. Oh poetry and prose what have you done. You make me write,from air-cooled rooms About your futility.You are anesthesia for escapists like me. Therefore I must keep writing. I am the one ,Who can see the world and write about it. But cannot do anything else except writing, So I will keep on writing.