“And it was at that age poetry arrived in search of me.
I don’t know; I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river.”
-Pablo Neruda
Poetry fuels the literary world. It has given us solace when asked for, a smile when needed. At the very least, we must acknowledge its essence.

Writer’s Drought

You write what you like to. You write, taking inspiration from all around you. You write because it’s your hobby. You write to make yourself useful. You write to express who you are, what you are, and how you are. You dream and pen down your fantasies. Your writing does not become yours. You become what your writing is. But what if it all ends? What if you are not able to write again? What if your inspirations turn a blind eye on you? What if you are not able to be you?