Man of the world, a rare bird still
Out in this vain world, treading my lone trail,
I fall, find feet, firm up my feeble stake,
And try again a better me to make,
In marketplace but never once for sale.
With enough love in heart for all to draw,
An avid pond I am, no settled lake
Content with scarce, no world breeze can me shake--
A pond, never of a huge oceans’ awe.
In this world vying daily with new breeze,
I just try-- be a man made but by me--
A task no simple still to turn with ease,
So, it’s fair to feel way-lost in the sea,
Come forward then, wish wind-speed to my sail,
To help me sail to my least-trodden trail.
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Sonnet | 03.12.2004, revised September 2024|self, world
Copyright ©
Aniruddha Pathak
|