Poetry-The Ethics And Learnings

A nameless void sets in
To the poet's heart and to the vicinity
Of his existence from nowhere.

The birds stop singing,
The stream stops flowing,
The breeze stops blowing
And the stream of conscious of the poet
Meets a road-block,
As you depart the scene in a huff.
Now tell me...
How shall you assure the birds
That you have come back and
That you shall not leave them
So that they get their melodious voice back?
Now tell me...
How shall you convince the stream
That you have come back again
That you shall not leave it
So that it remembers the formula of its perennial flow?
Now tell me...
How shall you convince the breeze
That you have come back and
That it should come alive from its frozen state
For the sake of humanity?
Now also tell me...
How shall you
Console the poet
That you have come back for good to him
Who laments inconsolably over the
Death of his quill and spill of the ink. ?