This desire arises whenever I write,
And am undesirous of the slightest respite,
A non-existent realm beyond the logical’s sight,
This world the rational forever pleads to bite.
This realm exists so we, writers, never die,
A spotless sea so lucid you could really cry,
No inhibitions, praises and critics we bid goodbye,
Where we will always be and never need to try.
Because that’s what we are and have always been,
Immortal yes, this realm does exist for I have seen,
So while you folks measure our worth being mean,
We travelled miles away and expand into the unseen.
(A TRIBUTE TO WRITERS— CRITICS AND JUDGEMENT HAVE NO PLACE. YOUR WRITING IS ORIGINAL ALWAYS ACCEPTED INTO THE REALM OF THE ABSOLUTE)