Poetry

I eat it
Nothing is as much sweet

I drink it
Nothing has ever tasted like it
Not even the finest of wines

I inhale it
Nothing sustains like it
The purest form of oxygen.

I surf on it
Unimagined beauty
Not even the biggest tide

I fly on it
Higher than any pair if wings can take you
No even those of an eagle

I puke it
And I lick all of it
It taste as fresh as from the oven.

Nothing compares to poetry
Ask every poet
He/she will tell you same.