The Astrologer

An astrologer is but a counter, consulting the charts, Pale sheets of papers To foresee into Your self and personality By the position of the planets At the time and place of your birth. The present and future positions of the planets will be Compared with the chart of your birth And through your zodiac name and date of birth They will predict the traits of your personality To say that the things are pre-destined Or going to happen. Clad in a white dhoti and kurta, more refined than a palmist and a fortune teller, The astrologer, a sub-caste Brahmin, Thinks himself a mathematician, A knower of the planetary world, Delving in the unknown and the unseen universe And the writs of destiny to say. The three sandalwood-paste lines on the forehead And a rudraksha necklace Beaded around the neck, The astrologer marks birth, marriage and death, All through star-reading, What the zodiac sign of his, How the star-position, What the date of birth. Suppose that your date of birth, Your illiterate parents entered into not And you know it not, Maybe it that they have lessened it As for making you do the job for sometime more, As many were not aware of it That their son would read. Many believe not, take it life lightly, What it is happening, let it, For some your karma is your dharma, As you sow so you reap, Said it Buddha, as it in the Gita Said it Kabira, say you Weighing the words within.