A Lost Poetry

It was an unusual night.

I felt something

Creeping at me through the open window.

So, I took a ride on my senses

And up I went 

Gushing through cascades of realizations

And flying past the yellow history of mankind;

Brushing against the rainbows 

Of aesthetics

Chanting how art is for art's sake.

This is how poetry happened to me

And all night I made love to 

The words and to the cursor

On my screen

As it waited eagerly like the bride on

Her wedding night

Jolting with all possibilities of ideas...

Morning came, 

Taking away this sweet temporality.

I never saved what I wrote.

An erroneous flick of the finger,

 An unwanted deletion.

And then suddenly this poetry

Became the love I had lost...

Like Frost's birches,

It took me away to heaven for a while

And brought me down to

Disappoint my escapade.

I never recollected the words completely

But held onto the lovely rememberance

Of writing them.

Since then,

I hope for such a night to come to me every day.

Nights when poetry happens to me

And I embark onto 

An inexplicable journey

To the "fixed stars" above.

Because I believe,

Words can be deleted from the mind.

But feelings and passions from the heart can not...