You are not Urania, you are not one of those nine,

You are possibly not
You are not one of those nine,

I know,

When through the dusty hazy late evening road
I run,
Whizzing past cabs, buses,mini vans,
I know that lighted maze
Of urban scape
Actually paints your face,
In my bedazzled eyes,

And i look at my self,
With wonder and sense of atonement,
On the side mirror glass,

How through the wintry mist I pass,
How in me a song raises,
How ignited sky illumines in phases,
How dust in me falls to kiss the dust,

And I think life's poetry just,
I sing poetry of life just.


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