The Epiphany Of My Life

I wasn't born a poet 

Nor was I a Shakespeare by birth, 

But a poet was born in me without my knowing. 

Linguistic lessons and phonics exercises 

Brought me no remarkable excellence, 

Rather ingrained in me a spark 

Of unfailing determination. 

  

Like a seed, it lay hidden in me, dormant. 

As favorable monsoon-sprinkles 

Bring life and blood to the seedlings, 

The potential poet in me budded 

With the shower of strokes and smiles 

Of a couple of unanticipated moving faces, 

Who knew me better than I did. 

  

My spirit profoundly owes to them 

For the wings, they gifted me to take off high 

To the infinite universe of imagination. 

I will never mourn the inability 

Of opening up my heart to the world, 

Because my heart is a newborn poet- 

An offspring of an extraordinary artist, the life. 

  

Unshared feelings, concealed sentiments, 

Furthermore, the smothered reactions 

Were given life and vivid expressions. 

My inner longings and dreams, 

That I was scared to unveil, 

And the secreted romance and feelings 

Enjoyed their fulfillment in white pages. 

  

My pen speaks better compared to my tongue; 

And the ink demonstrated victoriously, 

Where tongue and voice had frizzled. 

All these just occurred unexpectedly, 

Giving me no insight into what I was heading to, 

Because of a few rousing smiles. 

And this is the epiphany of my life.