I spotted a shooting star in the sky,
I felt like soaring into the darkness, and fly.
The stars high above flickered and winked,
And the luminary vanished as I blinked.
I ogled at the nothingness; but we still look up,
To hope, blame, wish and at times to shun a crack-up.
Why had I hoped to see a falling star?
Can anything help, especially something so far?
I pondered on what my desire meant
Was I that helpless and bent,
that I had to depend on a myth?
Everything I want was presented, forthwith.
Still, for the guardian angel, I yearn,
For from the past, I have learnt,
If you believe in your dreams,
all will churn out, exactly as you deem.
A shooting star won’t fetch me what I seek,
It’s solely me, even if I’m judged a freak.
Amongst the fallacy I’d stop to think,
Was it me or the star; I’d probably rethink.