Truth is not easy. Truth is harsh, uncaring and brutal, even when it is most life-giving and most beautiful. Sometimes we have to lie even to tell the truth. There are moments when we stay silent hoping that the truth which tugs at our soul will some how fade away. We ignore the constant banging of the door and cover our ears with our palms. But this persistent animal stays adamant at our door, persistent and pleading. It stays sobbing besides our doors, sobbing, and one can not step out without trampling over it. At such moments we need poetry. Poetry is a beautifully and cunningly crafted lie which allows us to embrace the truth when we can no longer avoid it. Poet makes up the things. Poie`sis means making. When truth is inescapable, poetry becomes necessary. When truth rains on us with all its acidic waters, poetry mellows it down and ensures that our souls are saved of the blisters. Poems remain timeless and stay hovering over generations like small clouds floating i
I am a Worshiper of Words. I ponder, I think, I write, therefore, I exist. A Blog on Literature, Philosophy and Parenting