THE LIMIT : SONNET 2

The growth of life buoyantly bears the womb

With pride and honour, but can't hold the weight

When strikes the labour, then puts in the bosom

A cute offspring - the Creation's wondrous guest.

The bosom laps the glory up with surge

Of love and keeps onto the breasts to suckle

The elixir as the hands and whole do nurse

The blest little thing with love and oracle.

But can a life which grows to stray be nestled?

And like the womb, the bosom too gives in

To toddler's forward impulse and does yield

It to the world to grow by its design.

Alas, none grows past the plan of the sphere!

And in its vagaries, each one does wither.

- N P SAMAL

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