The programmed top
is gyrating fast
drawing a tortuous path
on the surface of the earth.
just before reaching the destination
the spinning toy wavers a bit
finds a desolate valley,
murky and nebulous
leaving the locus
of some points thereon
all of a sudden it disappears….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is life's journey, Programmed? How long we gyrate or how soon we stop, is anybody's conjecture. No one spins endlessly, right? Thank you for this profound depiction of life's journey.10++++
Doris, thank you so much for your comment. Chandan