The angular metal sheet, mars my view.
Not my delight.
As I gaze, in a daze,
The vision, the awesome sight.
‘Heaven above’ conjured up eons ago;
This is it; this truly is.
If so,
Where are the Gods?
The St.Peter’s Gate, or
Our own Tridevs?
White, soft, fluffy, clumps…
When touched though, retorts
with quite a few bumps!
Some seated, all sedate,
As if, for posterity.
While, the wispy ones,
Seemed all in a hurry.
Some not as curvaceous,
As streaks, or waves,
Lapping the shores,
But in silent ways.
And thus I descend,
On to earth.
Having been, to heaven
And back.
It’s there, for me to soar,
In my dreams;
When I would need,
Some quiet and peace.
1 comment:
mmm... Why do we need quiet and peace??
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