Most importantly, I hate poetry for teaching me how to love. Poetry made a lover out of me. Before poetry, I didn’t know that the gaze from my lover’s eyes could loosen my joints. I didn’t know that a single touch of his hands could melt me like candle wax. . .
In essence, you are just like the children playing, oblivious of the uncertainties of life; you are like the lawyer filled with angst over what the judge’s ruling will be on his case; you are like the beggar on the street, unsure of the source of his next meal; you are like the teacher pondering over the best methods to teach his students.
