A Poem

Its emotion itself moulded in pens hue, The feelings in it are from vast ocean to tiny dew; whence it hath filled minds shallowest lakes, It flows down from heart as through snow flakes. Proud and great are those creation-- Whose thought consist of truth along with imagination; Those creation without truth are fake-- Passes to past,these new pieces,floating upon time's lake. It has the majesty higher than Everest, It covers within itself from lions den to tiny nests, It has the beauty brighter than pearl, Deep message doth around it curl. Lssons of academics--do they continue in life in general? Message in poetry --they do run with life till funeral.