by adhip ghosh
Nights after days, days after nights, must run
That's the stepping truth on a ladder's rung;
We go up, further up, that we may down
To the zero ground as a circus clown.
Repeating the same shows again and 'gain,
Since that's the snare of life- no loss, no gain;
Only environs change, climates do not,
They are ever and always meant for naught.
Still, we cannot help welcoming the New,
For amidst the Old they're the only few
Who bring diversions, digressions from toils,
That appear bitter chocolates in foils;
We are to brave them only with this preview
That amidst the Old should emerge the New.
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- January 2, 2009 1:05 pm
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