I call him a poet
He
Who beautifies his loneliness
Sitting all alone
In the dark.

Someone
Who has stopped
To compare with
The hills of status,
The oceans of achievement,
The deserts of pain,
The Suns of ego,
The Moons of pleasure,
And even if
Has stopped
Chasing his own shadow,
The very epitome of
Being followed by others.

Such a being-
A pure soul,
An innocent heart,
A creative mind,
A light body
Ready to fly up high
And sigh any pain away.
He is really
Second to God-
God of creation,
God of Nutrition,
God of Destruction-
The Poet.