The head holds ideas.
The heart hosts expressions.
I have them with me for some time.
They stir and stew all the day.
I encounter an enthusiasm
a swift one like a vision.
The dreams originate in sequences
while the concepts shape up into an anthology.
The outcome is a beauty,
an epitome of all perceptions.
It is an ornate piece
the nuances gratify.
I wonder for a while
regard it with admiration.
It is mine, my very own
amazement overwhelms.
Am I eulogising my creation?
At occasions, I have to.
Meenas Poems 