does the waterfall fall br because it wants to be heard, seen? br does the mighty river flow br because it wants to be admired, painted? br does the rainbow arc over the sky br because it wants to listen to a love wish made in its name? br does the moon shine because it wants to be written an ode? br no, no, none cares for even an echo of a response from the world. br so should poet, shouldnt he? br poetry, yes poetry, br should run through him br like the river that pours out to sea br the water that cascades down the waterfall br the rainbow that colours the sky br the moon that subtly crowns, lights up night br without those egodesire attachments br where buddha appends all human sufferings br real poetry runs from that part of our soul, world br that is a part of everybody's world br like the river, waterfall, rainbow and moon br admiration, if any, goes back to nature br where the poets belong br real poets as homo sapiens dont crave for them.