Through Words Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

Through words

Man may remain mortal
With death danger turning fatal
Yet his heart smells fragrance
Not letting go any chance

Poetry is not simple eruption
It is consumption of poison
In heart and emitting holy spell
For an entire world to feel

He may die anytime
But his poems shall survive
Get wide circulation all over
If that has sanctity cover

Poet is like small child
His heart is mind
Else he shall not be writing poetry
But committing deception and treachery

So heart injects
Purest form of acts
Through words
To spread it onward