Shooting stars of technology,
Blinking, twinkling on the long black river of land...
Scuttling past each other,
What a strange race!
The natural night, with all its natural might
Is still too enormous to rule...
Yet Audacity dares...
Yet shooting stars don't stop wishing!
Who stops wishing?
ReplyDeleteEven when the sea,
is being savaged,
by a harrowing tempest,
I'll go fishing.
The poet in you is maturing. Keep it up! Good poem.
ReplyDeletea good write ups, dilip
ReplyDelete