An ode to my inspiration

He called and my eyes cried! 

Miles afar he lives, teaches and works

He sows words with intentions divine

And plants ideas unashamedly pure

Urges one and all with his stoic might

To get up and follow their hearts;

He called and my eyes cried!

Took me minutes long to calm my nerves

As I held the mobile tight until my palm sweat

Pressed it hard against my ears to hear him close

I tried in vain to quench the quiver in my voice

While he soothingly spoke at the other end;

He called and my eyes cried

Words of praise I heard in my ears

And each syllable of advice I hung to raptly

While I made attempts to behave mannerly

Then a casual-sounding query sapped my nerves

For that was proof he understood my words;

He called and my eyes cried!

I had yearned to speak to him, to meet him once

The innumerable times I devoured his works

And when I send across my first book to him

I prayed he finds time to take a look

I was sure he would write to me

But

He called.

And my eyes cried!