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Poetry is such a medium, which springs from the tinkling of the strings of the heart. These poems have come from the depths of meditation. We just put it in words. Poetry is the one that comes in your heart, you can only invoke it by being a medium. You can open the doors of your heart and give it a way. But she descends herself from some distant plaintiffs. Poetry to be written is a gift of the mind. His words are beautiful, but there is no fragrance of nature in him. There are moments when your mind is empty, sometimes on the road, in solitude, sometimes by the song of some birds, by the whirlwind of a waterfall or by the sound of the wind passing in the solitude of the soaring hills. Then suddenly a song comes in you, you just put it in words. It may not be a rhyming instrument. But there will definitely be a fragrance of truth in it. We have tied those verses in words by becoming a mere reader. That's why he's alive on paper in front of you. Otherwise, when would she have died? The words that became those songs are being compiled here, maybe you like it.