Hey there
Feels good to see you (????) again.
Just a few hours ago I had been reading and feeling a very beautiful poetry written by John Keats called the ' Ode to the Nightingale' and the feeling 'his' words arose in me cannot be expressed in mere mortal words of mine. What I am writing might seem to be an exaggeration of my respect for the man and his word-painting but this is the least of what I can say about him.
Just once when I tried to guess what it would be like to be in his position, I got meloncholic and a feeling of escapism arose in me. The way he has selected his words to answer his conscience and his heart is brilliant and touching.

Isn't poetry just a means of escaping the reality ??? May be not. May b, its only a means to represent the reality, a reality representing the perspective of the poet.
The poetry is an echo of the voice deep inside him. The mood of this voice is always vague and the harmony of its poesy can take you to an all different world. In here, you can plunge into the ocean of thoughts and words 'cause this world is yours and yours only. Its a state that a drunken man always wants to achieve, a state for which a drug-addict always pleads. This is a state of trance.........

'My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains'

The world of poetic fantasy is unimaginably fascinating, breath-taking and beautiful. Even the poetic form of 'melancholy' looks so serene and awesome that you can easily get lost in its fall and not return before the tong of the reality bell shakes you up to yourself.

Probably I am getting lost in my nascent world of virtual reality.

Gotta get bak!!!!!