Why it's easy for me to comprehend a poetical text?
Why am I puzzled on what theory can be on page next?
Why literature reminds me of myself?
Why while reading literature my souls becomes an elf?
It seems so promising to delve deep into stories,
As if I'm opening a golden gate of glories,
Why it's difficult to explain what to me literature is?
Every genre tempts my soul, it gives a thrilling fizz.
Why?
Ethical dilemma reminds me of Nora's decision to leave Torvald's house,
Moral accountability is what Tess paid to society in search of her spouse.
Western moral thinkers for me are Lawrence, Eliot and Browning,
Auden, Yeats, Wordsworth....Oh God! To them literature is crowning.
Societal hypocrisy is with Brady's "I want a wife",
"Waiting for Godot" reflects man's existential strife.
With education "Hard Times", guilt is "Mourning becomes electra"
Emerson's inspiration, Poe's "Black Cat", and so many exetras.
Mind is filled with all these prolific literary figures,
Who introduced me to this world of amazement, and now my mind for this triggers.

Why everyone asks "What's the use of literature in the age of science?"
I say "Why not?, isn't literature encapsulates the histories of every scientific line?"
Whatever this world say, To me literature is my dream
It's the light in my life towards whom my soul gleam..

© Ritu