Saturday, January 22, 2005

Sonnet to Thoreau

Methinks, that bright blue star yonder in sky
Twinkles forever smirking at my soul,
The fiery black thunder when storm comes by,
Frightens my mind for thoughts I never stole.
The might of the mountains standing so high,
Make me panic for my lack of hard goal.
Perchance, the adept breezes willfully try
To disclose my best kept corner-and-hole
Causing apprehension as to imply
And leaving nothing for me to console
My despair'd heart, so inclined to cry,
Desolate, desperate like a tadpole
Wishing to become a lotus in pond
Aloof and free from relation and bond.