Brevity Binds My Spirit To Uplift

Some worship when gold and silver heirloom That lies buried all year in volts and cells, When the young fire crackers, old fret in-room, In temples far when drums beat, ring when bells, As time ‘tis to invoke Goddess of wealth On thirteenth day of waning Ashvin moon, Worried of vile smoke, of my old lungs' health, I lost was in thoughts of brevity's boon. Alas, festive spirit, what with loud boom Around, can scarce imprisoned be by mood, Even when confined in a smallish room, Me, engrossed on sonnet's sparse plot to brood: How brevity binds, letting me not drift, How confined contours my spirit uplift. ______________________________________ _________ Written on Dhan-teras day of Diwali, the Festival of lights _____________________________________________ _______ Sonnets | 16.11.12 |