Inspiration:
I have always felt that when I write anything, I am no longer part of this world. I seem to transcend it and be with something that is definitely supernatural. When I return back to our world, I am astound by the thing created. Somehow the thoughts flowed, somehow the words fell in their place and many times the apt word for the situation, which I didn't knew, just popped out from somewhere. Every creation in this world can only be done by HIM and for this reason, I feel, that I may not be the writer of whatever is written. Maybe, it is for this reason, I love to write under the alias WillG. It's not my own, it is only written through me.
i start seeing life,
As i scribble another poem.
When i am the artist,
Whose hands are held,
By that invisible seer,
Who carved this world beautiful.
i write no poems,
i create no rhyme.
i am no artist.
Just a hand let loose,
For HIM to hold and write.
Maybe HIS miracles, love or anguish.
i scribble no poems for glory,
i scribble to feel his ‘touch’.
Which dissolves me in HIS love,
Like the devotee chanting HIS name.
Nothing is left of me,
But only HIS love remains.
i hold my mind no more,
When HE writes through me.
For we never can write,
Just cheer this delusive ‘I’.
As this great satirist,
Plays HIS chants over our hands.
Then nothing of HIS remains.
Just a beautiful creation.
In the name of the hand,
That HE held and not HIS own.
Maybe as a sign of gratitude
For allowing Him to hold and write
-Will.G
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