Who sees a flower bloom and weeps is a poet...
(How fleeting is glory and how near is the end...)
Who sees an infant die and laughs is a poet...
(All see end, not a new beginning..)
Who hears a stone moan and kisses it is a poet...
(What beats in others is your own heart...)
Who cuddles a thundering ocean like a lover is a poet...
(Heart doesn’t suffer from fears of eyes...)
-Pulastya
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