As I lay lonely on my bed
At the hour the night was most dead
I gazed at the stars through the window
Hoping to peep into my tomorrow
The night sky, though not clear
Came with a sense of cheer
I formed patterns of trees, houses and cars
From the speckles of a billion stars
I slumbered with a
deep sense of peace
Without recourse to a timepiece
As I had drifted into sleep
With alarm clock silenced – no beeps.
I gazed into my telescope
Trying to read my horoscope
Alas, the revelation
Tomorrow - an empty fixation!
What fiction!
Men claim power of prediction
For their faith in tellers of fortune
Great men have been led to misfortune
As the new day broke
From my lonely bed, I woke
Having nothing but hope
That my path will always be lit, I’ll never grope
Though I think he will become a hero
He who can predict tomorrow
The way out of this endless torture
By your actions
today, create your own future.
Crouching Tiger - 01/02/2016
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