Scintillating in the moonless night,
Proud of its unaided brilliance;
Unlike moon, it seems so petite
Yet, it entertains the universe by its own cadence..
Its not a lit up face of a sandy orb.
Yet, lits up a zillion faces like mine.
Its happy – nobody around to mob –
To serve us all with its shine.
Shines the same light forever.
Yet, it sometimes appear fade
When the night is conquered by the moon, so clever
That loans to hide of what it is made.
Such impurity, can it be a part of nature ?
Perhaps, creator too, like us, dents its work.
Else how come a neatly woven fabric develop a rupture ?
Why is the cheating moon beloved, shouldn’t be a dork ?
I may sound harshin my own presumptions.
On the “angel of love”, the beloved moon.
But who ever thought if its an imperfection
In this godly creaton ? A curse or a boon ?