My Friend: Purely A Rustic Romance Poem by Aadil Hingorjo

Cigarette in his hand writes his story
Sketches flying in air adores his personality
He is so close to life, and unapologetically in love with it
He doesn't respect the writers turned activists
Masterpieces daily visit him, he claims so
But he won't write any
My friend is truly an epic unwritten enigma
He doesn't even disregard the unfamiliar odor
Skepticism and enthusiasm walk thru him
He treats every tide with earthly smile
Childish beauty and the confident youth at the same time define him
Not prone to petty politics, he avoids such talks
On the tenuous tracks of life, he's carefree, cryptic, and paradoxically amiable
He does never ask for elaboration
To him, the enjoyers elaborate themselves
They don't ask for shaky explanations
And the taste of art is all to be felt
Not to be discussed with filthy arguments
He says he hasn't loved anyone
And the feel that many receive while singing to songs, he doesn't get that feel
But he keeps singing in silence
And the moonlight marches in the edges of his eyes
Adopted cities don't sound natural to him
He's rooted way deep in rural rainbows
My friend is purely a rustic romance
He's uncontrollably him, and nothing more; less than it.