Sunday, July 12, 2009

Interest

A fickler possession,
I've never had.
Things that mattered
Are now superfluous.
Ah! The Orb has gyrated
Once around the Star,
Since that time- when
A fanatic was, where,
A placid soul is now.

The Vicissitude,
The Seasoning,
Was no merry hap.
Qualms not sated,
Queries linger-
Was the reason
Inaptness or Conspiracy?
Was the outcome truly just?

Unanswered these shall be-
For I prefer not unpleasant bonds.
A recap-
The inert soul has spurned,
Not for anything
But a shield against
Further letdown and
A tryst with a debacle.

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