My Shangri-La

My Shangri-La
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What I write is
Not for you.. or anyone.
I write;
I write to serve myself out
Of the truth of being alone:
I know no one except me has read but...
by mere writing I feel
My feelings are shared
With everyone.

I write for myself,
Not for the world;
Although not about me
My feelings find a vent
Through my poems:
If possible, I would stop
And look at the world;
Neither from Zenith,
Nor from beneath...
I try to discuss on parity
With my poems...
I tell them I love them:
They never argue!

Neither is the fear
Of non-acceptance,
Nor of dreaded rejection;
At last there is someone who understands.

Neither do I look for the tune
Nor do they ask me for rhyme;
I do everything for one person:
I, me, myself
And poems are just my revolting commandos
Creating my own world…
My very own Shangri-La:
Where I am there,
Unknown, alone, untouched:

Yet the feeling of someone
Desiring my company
Telling me:
I love you
Persists.