Poem...

Human I am, so very, indeed,
I've limited unlimited needs;
Have a mouth with paired lips
And yet not so often it speaks.

Emotions born and die within,
So much of me lurks unseen;
A few sparks are meant to live,
'Let'em come to light' - I believe.

All motivated I get hold of my pen,
Rejuvenates each nerve and vein;
Winds of emotions sway me free,
Notions in motion is all I can see.

Tea takes the shape of the cup,
Fate marks the way of a pup;
The cup is the scheme of rhyme,
And the fate is the poet's style.

Every word is a precious pearl,
Meticulously picked from whirl;
There's something that binds all,
The poem's rather the poet's soul.

Ends in peace what began with spasm,
The same as one you feel after orgasm;
Exhausted, content after the run,
Elated about what you've done.

Everytime my mind goes out of mind,
There's a mystery the poem unwinds;
I watch the man whispering inside,
I seek not where but why does he hide...