God, The Omnipresent

I know I can't write poetry,
When I start thinking.
My thoughts don't rouse the poet in me.
My love for poetry does it.

Many an hour have I spent making futile efforts,
To summon the poet within.
I had no clue about him,
About his abode as well.

I sought him exhausting my intellect,
I employed logic to detect him,
He remained elusive as always.

By hook or crook I wanted to know him.
My deceptive ways failed to show him.
I dropped my vanity.
I lost my sanity.
I pondered his presence in absolute serenity.

I cried to see him.
I died to feel him.
I pleaded him that I needed him.
I discovered that I was in love with him.

Silencing my intellect,
I offered oodles of love to him.
I found him,
I went around him.

My love! My soul!
Without you I'm not whole.
The god in me is that poet.
Holding his hand I'll sing many a duet.
-Mr.ClAiRvOyAnT