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THE TRANSIT : SONNET 197

The new is coming and the old is going
And in the transit caught my woeful soul
Fazed by the game the old did play and thinking
Whether the new will take forth the old's toll
Or heal my wounds fore'er with painful bites,
Fill my bowl forever begging, and empty,
And make my days delightful, with my nights,
But comes he with a pledge, with failure goes he.
And so, the transit plays a soothing buffer--
The plane of calm between uneasy slopes
Of retreating foe and fear'd do-gooder,
As pains of my despairs are balm'd by hopes...
So I do wish the transit lies no end;
Better is life than being assured, declined. 

-- N P SAMAL 

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