Letters To A Young Poet — Letter #2

Part 2 of my self-journal

Clicked by the Author 😅

Non-Members can read here

10th June, 2026

Dearest Harry,

I didn’t feel like bothering you. It’s June, so the sun isn’t the most amiable entity in the sky currently. In five months, you’ll be leaving your early 20s—pretty dreadful, isn’t it? So, I thought of penning down this letter for you, to see if you are doing well or not.

Not excited to grow into an adult, are you? I mean, I have rarely met anyone who likes to grow older, except perhaps children. Because why will they not be? Adults are free. They can buy their own ice cream and sleep whenever they want, right? Well, in that case, free will has failed all of us, then, I guess.

But that’s tangential to the original topic—which is YOU. I see you are on a quest to rewire all the lost pieces of your mind and soul. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve rested, dear. I see you, you know. I see you haven’t been calm for quite some time now. I see fear has overstayed its welcome in your heart—perhaps it rented a room there now. I see how you are dangling between uncertainties and comparisons. I see the invisible weight you’ve forgotten to take off your shoulders since forever (and then you dare to blame the gym for some “hidden shoulder injury”). But you know, there’s one particular visual that I see, which is way more concerning (shall we say) for me.

I see you’ve forgotten how to be in love.

When I say "forgotten," I’m dwelling more on the feeling part. Seems like you, like so many before you, have gone through what we call "life." Life does that to the best of us. It wrenches and amputates those who make the naive mistake of showcasing themselves as the ones who believe in things like care and love. You fought well, though — way more than the folks around you. Now, I don’t know how to help you here, and I don’t want to overwhelm you by forcing you to feel. Let love find its way back to you on its own now. And when it does (which it will), I want to hold it firmly, hide it somewhere safe, and shield it from a seasoned enemy—the world outside. I don’t know how to help you here, but I’ll just leave a short message for you that someone once told me —

“May this world never take away your innocence.”

I do have some small advice for you. Since Love is lost in this tunnel of oblivion, you let your poetry be the light at the end of it. Let your verses pave the way for the eternal emotion to reach you. Let the words flow indiscriminately and flawlessly from the core of your soul. Let the rhymes sway through the storms of your mind and adorn the pages of your diary. And let the nights know at least one soul regularly waits for its arrival. Until next time, young poet.

“A poet is a man who puts up a ladder to a star and climbs it while playing a violin.” — Edmond de Goncourt

Thanks for reading, fellow reader… Cheers!

If you enjoyed reading this piece, don’t forget to give it some claps 👏. Also, do drop a lovely response. It’ll mean the world to me.

The Letters—

[embed]List: Letters To A Young Poet | Curated by Harshit | Medium Letters To A Young Poet · A list for my letters · 1 stories on Mediummedium.com

You can check out my poems here —

[embed]List: My Poetry Collection | Curated by Harshit | Medium My Poetry Collection · Poems by this nerd · 62 stories on Mediummedium.com

**About me 💌**

I started a poetry account on Instagram — @harrys_quill Do check it out!

📖 This story is published under The Rabbit Note. Have a story to share? Join our community and let your words be heard. Write for us.

[embed]*The Rabbit Note *Where every voice matters medium.com

**🧵 *Come, join the “Unfinished — A Writing Challenge,”* an invitation to sit with what was left incomplete — in love, in loss, in the quiet corners of a life still being lived. Submit your story for this challenge.

[embed]🧵Unfinished — A Writing Challenge Some things were never meant to end. Some things ended before they should have. Some things are still waiting.medium.com