Saturday, February 04, 2012

All we catch is fish

All letter writing peters out with time
Even the secret ones, the very secret ones
Where poets themselves sense nothing,
Of stars and hidden moons
In trivial discussions,
The tenor of events 
Has a stubborn melody

Who is to blame
That moonlight is nothing 
But a reflection of sun.

We keep reaching for stars in a lake
Well aware
That all we catch is fish
Which doesn’t mind the moon to fall
Off the sky, 
And sky doesn't mind either
To become a clear and yawning void.