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Driftwoods

Grateful ever I’m
Crating reminiscences
From ever-evanescing hours
Like precious fossils
From receding marine streams

Nescient of times ahead
What else to opt for?
Clueless are humans of
The impending divine deluge
Whether a shower of nectar
Or a surge of venom

Staring at the ‘future’
Congealing as ‘present’
And the ‘present’, freezing as ‘past’
Floating in muted patience
Only rudderless boats we are
Wafting the waters of time

Trying frantic to swerve away
Is sure not in our sway
Nor the strength to stay still
In the never-ending rill
Driftwoods in ocean flows
Know not…when they reach the shores! !

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