What is poetry? A hormonal imbalance? Or side effects of a disturbed mind? Why are poets viewed as people who had nothing better to do than to just put feelings/moments into words? After all they are just feelings! Big deal.
Then why do I see poetry in everything Allah has created? Why does the morning air, broken buildings, a child’s smile, birds flying, spin my mind into a whirlpool of happiness? Why does life’s mundane things seem to sing to me, seem to rejoice with me? Why do I find beauty in chaos? Why does the night studded with stars make me stop everything and just gaze? Why when I express my gratitude in poetry do people think its some lower order thinking when instead it takes me to a higher Being.
Let me confess, I’m grateful that Allah has given me the power to spin a web of words so bright that I can climb onto its ladder, ascend and bow to Him! Its His doing. The words are not planned; they merely flow from my being and for this I secretly feel like being the chosen one or the lucky one. This capacity to express my inner world in allegories and cryptic language makes me feel complete, understand the jigsaw puzzle pieces Allah wants us to put together; then why people think that we are in actual quite illogical, living in our own fantasy? Because frankly, do we even know if its air that we are really breathing? (yes, this is taken from Matrix) Is this colour really called red? Is this emotion really called anger and is negative? Is poetry really just a meaningless scrawl of words? No, we don’t!
Like love, poetry is subjective for everyone, though it is objective. Since we can never be objective about it in action but only in intention it flees away into everyone’s subjectivity. Why? Because we forget that everything came out of love and only love, instead we turn it into some kind of a negotiation. That is no poetry. That is no love.