Many accept things just as are,
Where so fate ferries, there they are.
They look for boat nor yet for oar,
But search for a navigator.
Their life seem Arundhati* star—
In a star string Ursa Major,
Too faint to spot, farther than far,
They try all life with it to spar.
Holding ego’s little finger,
They lose, false promises when mar.
Believe me:...
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